I'm A Delta Get It?
by Manchester
Summary: Nearly a decade after the Sunnydale Collapse and the creation of the New Council, Xander is sent by the Powers That Be to a certain college fraternity. Various comedic hijinks ensue, of course.
1. Chapter 1

"ALEXANDER LAVELLE HARRIS-"

*Wonderful. All he'd needed tonight was for one of those stupid Powers That Be to yank him out of his comfortable bed in the Cleveland Slayers House. This featureless dreamscape around him was totally annoying, not to mention that big jerk starting off by declaiming in their best Wizard of Oz style his detested full name.*

"-YOU HAVE BEEN CHOSEN-"

*Oh, like he had a _choice?_ Yeah, right.*

"-TO ACCOMPLISH THE FOLLOWING TASK-"

*Hey, if all they'd wanted was for good ol' Xander on hand as a witness to their agonizing suicide attempt, he'd have instantly volunteered. Showing up early, too, with a big bowl of popcorn ready, along with helpful comments on where to aim the shotgun muzzle.*

"-YOU ARE OBLIGATED TO PROTECT HE WHO MUST NOT BE HARMED-"

*Of course. Follow the godly union requirements to be as vague and ambiguous as possible. All in the hopes of a nice, side-splitting time watching those puny mortals forced to deal with your proclamations. What, do you get extra points for making them guess about what they're supposed to do, exactly?*

"-YEA, FOR IT SHALL BE THE DOOM OF HER IF YOU FAIL-"

*'Yea'? You're actually saying 'Yea' and already pinning the blame on me? And who the hell's 'her', anyway? Buffy, Wils, Dawn, Faith, any other girl I know from the New Council? Or maybe it's Lady Gaga or someone else from the rest of the _three-billion-plus_ human females on this planet! Nope, don't bother to narrow it down a little, I'm perfectly fine with blindly doing something you're hiding from me, just to keep this mysterious lady safe and sound!*

"-AND SO YOU SHALL BE TRANSPORTED TO BEGIN YOUR NECESSARY RESPONSIBILITY. FEAR NOT, CHILD OF ADAM-"

*Just let me get my hands around your throat, and I'll show you 'fear not', asshole!*

_Wham!_

Landing heavily flat on his back on the grass of his arrival point, Xander had his breath smashed out of his lungs. However, even while spending the next few moments gasping for air, this one-eyed man still managed to smirk upwards into the night sky, knowing he'd nevertheless managed some small measure of revenge by truly getting under the skin of whoever had the bright idea of mystically shanghaiing him to…where?

At once scrambling onto his feet, Xander warily looked around as he brushed off his clothes. *Lessee, some kinda vacant lot filled with temperate trees and bushes, feels like fall weather, it's night and the stars up there are those in the Northern Hemisphere, looks like a suburban neighborhood with postwar American-style big houses or apartments along the lighted street out there - what the hell, did I get sent back to Cleveland?*

Frowning at this last thought, Xander tilted his head, half-closed his remaining eye, and he just…felt where he was. A couple of seconds later, a disappointed headshake revealed his inability to sense that Ohio city's Hellmouth. This newfound capacity had come as quite a surprise to several of the contingent who'd relocated from California years ago after their former home had fallen into an enormous sinkhole. It'd been taken for granted back then that the Slayers, either the originals such as Buffy and Faith, or the former Potentials, could locate this other-dimensional nexus using their supernatural talents. However, every person who'd been born in Sunnydale - Willow, Andrew, and Xander himself - could do it, too. Weirdest of all had been Dawn's inclusion within this small group.

Shrugging, Xander then glanced down at his clothing. He thoughtfully eyed the new attire there, quite different from the boxers and t-shirt he'd been wearing in bed earlier tonight. Instead, he was currently clad in a somewhat formal outfit, consisting of a sports coat with a tie, good shirt and slacks, and decent shoes. It'd do for any event from attending church, visiting a high-class restaurant, or having a job interview. Which lead to the obvious question: Why was he wearing it _now?_

The man still standing in the vacant lot then did the most logical thing, which was checking out his pockets. There wasn't anything to be found in the coat, but when Xander's fingers probed his right front pants pocket, he felt and pulled out a folded sheet of paper from there. Opening and holding it up into the light coming from the streetlamp across the road, all it took was for him to read the first typed line on the letter for Xander's blood to immediately freeze solid.

_September 1, 1962_

Trying to wrap his stunned mind about being unexpectedly sent back nearly fifty years in the past, Xander numbly skimmed through the rest of the letter congratulating one Alexander LaVelle Harris (*not again!*) for registering in his freshman year at Faber College, Pennsylvania. Further details of his class schedule and the location of his assigned dorm room were provided, along with the smug declaration that it was the college's hope for all new students to recognize and do their best to follow this educational facility's motto: KNOWLEDGE IS GOOD.

"No, what's really good is tying down some fucking Powers That Bet on an anthill and pouring a whole jar of honey all over that mystical meddler!" snarled Xander under his breath. Angrily crumpling up the letter before shoving this back into his pocket, the furious man glowered off into the distance for a few minutes. Eventually simmering down a bit, this was helped along by the niggling thought that the name of the college he'd just been enrolled in seemed a little familiar. Not all that much, though. It wasn't from any kind of Ivy League school, just that Xander was positive he knew the name from somewhere.

At last impatiently dismissing his failure to correctly identify the college, Xander turned to walk out of the vacant lot, only to stop short when he became conscious of a very familiar sensation coming from his back pants pocket. An instant later, Xander pulled out from there a wallet, and he was gaping at its contents: twenty one-hundred dollar bills. Going on to glumly examine the Pennsylvania driver's license in the name of Alexander LaVelle Harris (*aaarrrrggghhh!*) which was the only other thing in the wallet, Xander eventually sighed, and he stuck the leather case back into his pants pocket.

Looking carefully around, the man firmly decided to himself, *Okay, before anything else, I'm gonna do something just for my own peace of mind.* Five minutes' hard work later, Xander slipped a foot-long stick up his left coat sleeve, with the tip of the point scraped onto one end of this piece of wood just touching the inside of his elbow. Feeling a little bit better, Xander stepped away from the tree he'd just broken off a branch to fashion a weapon. Only, he now abruptly heard the faint sound of voices coming from the street.

Ghosting through the vacant lot, Xander halted behind a tall bush, and he warily peered through this shrubbery's branches. There, he saw the backs of two young guys walking further along on the sidewalk, who'd just passed by his location while chatting with each other. Still keeping himself concealed, Xander tried to pick up the conversation of the people he was eavesdropping upon, only to fail to hear anything except a couple of words: "…they've got to take me, I'm a legacy…"

Absently rubbing at his left eyebrow above his patch, Xander wondered what to do now. Those two guys there were oddly enough dressed at the same level of formality as was the New Council troubleshooter, but his Hellmouth instincts hadn't gotten anything upsetting from them, or come to think of it, even from this whole place! So, it was _probably_ safe enough to discretely follow them in his effort to acquire some information. Like, such trivial details as where he was, why the hell he'd been sent into the past, etc., etc.

Slipping through the bushes onto the sidewalk, Xander let the guys ahead gain a block lead before he began strolling along after them. Several minutes later, once reassured that his quarry wasn't paying the slightest bit of attention to anything behind themselves, Xander was musing over something else it'd taken him a while to recognize.

In this section of neighborhood that he'd just entered, the big houses there were brightly lit up, with lots of other young men and women coming in and out of these tidy buildings with shiny metal Greek letters affixed over the front doors. From what he'd been told by those in the New Council from their own college experiences, tonight was some form of Rush Week, with the school freshmen (and freshwomen in their outdated dresses and big hair) applying to join the fraternities and sororities lining this nighttime street. At any time, Xander could've ended his tagging along after those two guys further along and tried his luck at the other places, but he might as well as finish the job. Besides, it looked like that house ahead was their destination anyway, incredible as it might seem.

Stopping on the sidewalk a hundred feet away, Xander disbelievingly regarded the hovel where the pair he'd been following were gingerly stepping over a naked female mannequin lying on the cracked concrete walkway leading to the shabby front door. Unlike this locale, every other Greek house on the street was in good repair and freshly painted, and the front lawns were neatly mowed and trimmed. _That_ decaying structure, on the other hand, was crumbling in ruins, with recent signs of an actual fire along the near wall, and every blade of grass previously on the bare front grounds had long ago died and blown away. The incredulous look on Xander's face matched perfectly the expressions on the duo he'd been tracking, as they approached someone standing in front of a rotting rose bush by the front door, his back turned to them.

Xander was too far away to hear anything, but one of the two guys must have spoken to him, the unaware man, since he now spun in a half-circle, to then immediately stare at the lower pants legs of the duo who'd just interrupted him in the middle of baptizing the rose bush. Mouth opening to make some sort of pleased remark, the burly guy bearing an absolutely identical resemblance to John Belushi genially jerked his head in a 'come on in' gesture while zipping up. Lurching around to enter the disintegrating house, this older guy was followed by those he'd invited, who now revealed themselves in the light cast by the open front door as having the likenesses of Thomas Hulce and Stephen Furst.

His sole eye firmly squeezed shut in a vain attempt to block out his sudden realization, Xander Harris groaned to himself, "Animal House! I'm in _Animal House!_ But just _why_ would I be sent into a movie? Even if it's one of my favorite comedies!"

* * *

Built high on a hill overlooking Faber College and its environs, the Dean's House currently had someone standing in the second story bedroom and observing from the front window there what was taking place outside tonight. The demon known to the other inhabitants of his hell dimension as Grazlar the Mighty approvingly regarded what was laid out in his view: the large, illuminated houses occupied by fraternities and sororities busily recruiting their newest members for the start of the school year. There, the majority of these dwellings would soon be filled up with young people of either sex being indoctrinated in the ways of conformity, obedience, submission and all the other good things of demonic control.

Grazlar could actually feel the waves of mystical energy created from those idiotic humans' acquiescence being added to his own personal power. Soon - very, very soon - the necessary level of influence to carry out the ceremony to be spoken only in trembling whispers as The Opening Of The Gates would be reached, and fire and blood would then wash this land clean. It couldn't happen quickly enough to satisfy the disguised demon, who now cringed at the sudden mental stab of truly unwanted sensations classified as defiance, exuberance, and genuine high spirits.

Grumbling as he rubbed at the balding forehead of his human host, Grazlar then glared through the window of the Dean's House across the distance at the specific spot where a detested structure stood. There, a dilapidated Delta House tonight contained lots of people dancing and drinking and otherwise having the time of their lives. That cursed building and its delinquent residents had blocked his plans for years. For example, every time he'd been about to do something like sacrificing the exact mystical number of virgins about to be kidnapped from one sorority or another, the inhabitants of Delta always managed to throw a party that speedily reduced the entire college's population of untouched young women. Not to mention untouched young men.

Well, not _this _time. Over the last few months, he'd methodically set up the proper plans and schemes that would finally remove Delta's charter and expel every single one of those rebellious children. During this, the demon would also carry out the preliminary rituals needed to set up the main ceremony which would bring doom to the college. True, the prophecies from the seers he'd previously consulted had been even more obscure than usual concerning the coming days - 'Beware of the White Knight', indeed - but Grazlar the Mighty would triumph! Nothing could possibly go wrong-

"Honey?"

Slowing turning around in the male body he was controlling, Grazlar stared blankly at the mate of Dean Wormer posing in the bedroom doorway while presently wearing nothing but a set of very skimpy lingerie. Giving her husband a come-hither look that damn well better make him stop acting like the cold fish he'd been for the past couple of years, Marion Wormer cooed, "Why don't you and I hop into our bed and fool around like we did when we were college students ourselves?"

Grazlar hastily scanned through the mental files of his host's stunned personality for the correct response to this astonishing proposal. Ah, yes, that one seemed to properly fit the situation. Opening his mouth, Dean Wormer recited in an unemotional monotone, "I have a headache."

A few seconds later, with his ears still ringing from the irately slammed-shut bedroom door, Grazlar turned back to the window, all while deeply brooding over this latest example of humanity's most strange behavior.


	2. Chapter 2

Xander dubiously regarded the ramshackle fraternity house before himself. Now that he'd finally been clued as to where he was, somehow inside the late-seventies film comedy known as _Animal House,_ this one-eyed man had no real idea as what to do next. The New Council member obviously hadn't been sent nearly five decades back into the past by one of those interfering Powers That Be just for the sheer fun of it. But, it _still_ didn't make any kind of sense! That motion picture, one of Xander's personal favorites, had been a flat-out farce without any supernatural elements in it at all. On the contrary, the film had involved a bunch of college frat boys in the early sixties defying authority, getting drunk, and basically having a ball while being away from their homes and parental supervision for the first time in their lives.

Well, it was clear he needed more information to help him make a decision. Shrugging, Xander then strode up the concrete walkway, pausing just before he stepped onto the porch. Taking a quick sniff, the expected ammonia reek of urine was overwhelming to the man, making Xander snicker to himself as he reached the front door. Knocking on this, Xander spent the next few moments waiting outside, until he realized that judging from the loud music blasting from the house, nobody had heard him. He tried again, this time pounding hard upon the door.

Bob Hoover, president of Delta House, was at that moment inside by the front door, taking a quick break from his duties of making sure his frat brothers weren't terrorizing too much tonight's potential pledges. Bopping along to the music, Bob took a happy mouthful from his beer bottle. The sudden hammering coming from the door made him choke on his beer, but he still amiably got up from his chair and went over to welcome whoever had just knocked. Pulling open the door, the clean-cut college student immediately recoiled from seeing the stranger standing there.

A _very_ tough-looking older guy (with an actual eyepatch!) was outside on the porch, and giving him a beady stare from his other eye. It was really unnerving, enough to make Bob apprehensively hide his half-empty beer bottle behind his back. Ignoring this to gaze over the younger man's shoulder into the cheerful chaos taking place among the other people dancing, drinking, and necking further back in the building during yet another legendary party, a fascinated expression abruptly developed on the other adult's features, as he shouted over the music, "This is the Delta House, right?"

"Uh, yeah," confirmed Bob, who felt himself relax a little at the wide grin this produced on that guy's face. Reassured that he wasn't some sort of college official or cop coming over to tell everyone to knock it off, the house president then cheerfully said, "Hi, I'm Bob Hoover. C'mon in, and have a drink." At those last words, the younger man turned and reached out to a side table set up in the front hallway, where a battered galvanized iron tub filled with ice and beer bottles rested on top of this piece of furniture.

Internally wincing at this dangerous invitation, Xander still entered the fraternity at the same time the loud music from a nearby record player stopped. That gave him the opportunity to introduce himself, "Thanks, I'm Xander Harris."

Watching how this Bob guy now pulled out a beer bottle from the tub, Xander realized what was about to happen. When the character he'd recognized as being the Delta House president affably offered the bottle of alcohol, the New Council member held up a hand in polite refusal, as he went on, "That's okay; I don't drink."

Nearly dropping _both_ beer bottles in his shock, Bob gawked at hearing this simple declaration which had probably never been spoken before in Delta House's entire existence. Shaking his head, the college student returned the refused beer to the tub, and he then performed a hasty swallow from his own bottle. That bit of Dutch courage resulted in a grave warning from Bob, "Just so you know, if you're really trying to pledge Delta, what you said a second ago isn't exactly gonna help your prospects."

Now it was Xander's turn to be startled. Blinking at being mistaken for a fraternity applicant, he opened his mouth to correct the other's error, only to close it as the older man thought this over. It was clearly evident that Xander's purpose here must have something to do with this specific place and its riotous members, so it only made sense to try to join. If he hadn't already totally screwed up this. Well, he'd cross that bridge when he came to it, so Xander merely said, "I don't mind others drinking, but it's not for me. If that gets anybody's back up, too bad. That's their problem, not mine." Without knowing it, Xander's face turned into iron hardness after delivering those last calm words.

Involuntarily taking a step back from this suddenly-scary stranger, Bob took another quick swallow of his beer. Trying to come up with something to fill in the uncomfortable silence that had abruptly descended between the two males, the younger man blurted out in his unthinking curiosity, "Hey, aren't you a little old to be here, anyway? I mean…" Trailing off in his embarrassment at having said something that was potentially insulting, Bob's face turned bright red.

Taking pity on his discomfited companion, Xander delivered a cheerful explanation that had been instantly created from whole cloth just a moment before, which had the virtue of being pretty much true. "Oh, I couldn't afford college after I got out of high school, so I went into construction work. A few years later, I lost this in an accident-" (at that point in his story, Xander nonchalantly waved a hand at the side of his face covered by a patch) "-and the insurance settlement from that let me knock around for a while. I finally got bored, and decided to give college a try. I'll see how it goes here, but I wouldn't mind joining this fraternity. You guys really seem to know how to have fun, not like those arrogant assholes at the other houses."

Hearing this made Bob beam at the man with one eye, who'd just said what every other member of Delta House fervently believed. Impulsively deciding this visitor was an okay guy who might be a real asset to the frat, a delighted Bob offered, "Let me show you around! You can meet the other brothers and chat with them, to help you and them decide if you can get pledged here. I've gotta say, you've got my vote already. The rest of the guys, they're great and all that, but I think we absolutely need somebody to keep 'em in line. Especially since the Dean really has it in for us. With good cause, I'm afraid, considering what's happened here over the last couple of years."

"Yeah?" asked Xander, the interested look appearing on his face concealing the inner elation of this man, as he followed after Bob beginning to narrate past Delta exploits. It looked like his chances of joining the fraternity had improved considerably, and now one Xander Harris was going to personally encounter the storied Animal House characters!

* * *

A couple of hours later, Xander was beginning to doze off in his dorm room. Thankfully, it was a single occupancy, so he didn't have to share it with a roommate. However, this was as far as the Powers That Be had gone in setting him up at a college residence. The space was plainly furnished, with merely a bed which Xander was presently going to sleep, a side table by this, a drawer, a desk with a lamp, and a hard wooden chair in front of this. Poking around in the otherwise empty room, the exasperated one-eyed man had finally found out why he'd been bestowed with so much cash in his wallet when he'd been sent into this movie.

Either by sheer oversight, or more likely due to some deity's mischievous streak, Xander now possessed nothing but the clothes on his back. He didn't have anything else at all at Faber College, which meant over the next few days he'd have to get everything he needed: more clothes, school textbooks, maybe a car or some other means of transportation. Well, at least the two grand he presently had in his wallet meant he could pay for it all with no trouble. In the early sixties, that amount of money represented nearly ten times as much as it would be fifty years from now, like close to twenty thousand dollars. If he was careful, it'd last him for as long as necessary.

Come to think of it, how long would this be, exactly? So far, nothing had occurred to make clear to Xander just why he was here. Turning over in the bed, the man reflected about this. All he'd accomplished tonight was to have a good time, which might or might not have done something to help him in his mysterious task. Still…Xander grinned to himself in the dark, his facial muscles shifting under the gaping hollow where his left eye had once been, before Caleb gouged it out.

All those dudes in Delta that he'd talked to, they'd each and every one of them unabashedly stared at his patch, which was now resting on the bed side table. It'd been the supreme icebreaker, with Xander gleefully coming up with even more absurd explanations on how he'd lost this optical organ. "Mom was right, running with scissors is a bad idea" was the least of his off-the-wall stories. Boon, Otter, D-Day, Bluto, and all the rest, they'd clearly been impressed by meeting Xander, so it looked like he actually had a good chance of getting into Delta House and starting to figure out just why he'd been sent into this movie in the first place.

Speaking of movies… For Xander, the high point of the whole night was finishing it off by finding himself in the fraternity's basement, and casually asking the young woman there behind the bar, "Say, honey, do you have some aunt or older cousin who looks just like you? I have to say, the resemblance is totally amazing."

Giving a wary glance to the older guy standing there, Katy was caught between her mixed feelings of mild annoyance over such a clear attempt at picking her up and of sharply telling the one-eyed man there that she was someone else's girlfriend. However, judging from the gleeful look on that stranger's scarred features, he seemed to be sincerely honest about his question, albeit having a lot of fun about the whole thing. Her mood suddenly shifting as she began to smile back at him, Katy chuckled, "Not that I know about. Why? Who was she, anyway?"

Giving a fresh-faced Karen Allen a wide grin, a very happy Xander told the waiting girl: "Oh, her name was Marion Ravenwood. Great lady, she could hold her liquor, deliver a first-rate punch, and deal with anything that came along her way, no matter how weird things turned out. I'm positive that if the two of you ever met, you'd both get along great!"

In his dorm bed, Xander spent the next few moments giggling to himself. Just being able to do that, it almost made it worthwhile getting yanked out of his home dimension by one of those arrogant PTB's. Suddenly beginning to feel really sleepy now, Xander yawned and closed his remaining eye. Time to get some z's; in the morning, he'd put his sole outfit back on, and go out shopping for some new duds. Once more turning over on the mattress, Xander began to peacefully enter dreamland.

Thirty seconds later, the right eye of the man in the college dorm popped wide open in pure alarm, as he abruptly remembered a specific scene from _Animal House._

* * *

"This is a _very_ bad idea, D-Day," appealed Bob to the mustached young man walking next to him, as both Delta members advanced down the college dorm corridor while carrying fire extinguishers in their arms. Like the others of their number in the rest of Faber College's dormitories, these two people were about to carry out the next-to-last ceremony tonight of Rush Week.

Glancing at the room numbers on the doors lining the hallway during his search for the correct location, D-Day absently responded, "It's tradition, kiddo, you know that. I went through it, so did you, and all the rest of the brothers, too."

The president of Delta dolefully shook his head, as he tried to persuade the other, "Yeah, but nobody ever like this guy Harris! I'm telling you, bursting in on him in his dorm without warning in the middle of the night and blasting him with these-" (Bob lifted his fire extinguisher and shook this piece of safety equipment for emphasis) "-is nothing but the worst thing to do to him! How about for once, we just knock and tell him the good news through the door?"

"Candy-ass," sneered D-Day, as he swaggered towards their destination just a few doors ahead. "I don't care how tough you think he is, we'll be taking him totally by surprise! Not only is it gonna be hilarious, we'll also see how he reacts to his final test! Now, are you gonna back me up, or do you wanna let me tell the rest of Delta how you showed yourself yellow?"

Bob irately responded, "I never said I wouldn't support a brother! On the other hand, if you're so confident about this, _you_ can go first!"

D-Day just rolled his eyes at that, to then shift his burden to lift a hand in an abrupt gesture for silence, as the pair stopped in front of a certain door. Nodding in satisfaction to Bob, who in turn glumly shrugged back, the young man in his leather biker jacket reached out to carefully test the doorknob. His hand still upon this, a momentarily look of surprise flashed over D-Day's face, as he turned to face Bob and quietly mouthed, "Unlocked."

Now feeling really nervous, Bob watched how his companion gingerly twisted the doorknob all the way open and then just as cautiously pushed the door ajar a fraction of an inch. Once that was done, both of the fraternity members got their fire extinguishers ready. Meeting each other's eyes, Bob and D-Day nodded to each other once, twice, and at the third and last nod, the couple simultaneously rushed the door, which burst open at D-Day's shoving shoulder.

Outside in the corridor, any possible onlooker would have seen only a fully-ajar door slamming open to reveal utter blackness inside the room, into which two young men holding their fire extinguishers promptly disappeared. All that next happened would have been heard instead of being glimpsed, but these sounds would have been more than alarming to any witness. For less than a second, the whooshings of operating fire extinguishers were intermixed with gleeful male whoops of D-Day and Bob shouting at the tops of their lungs. Except right after this, startled yelps of alarm were followed by loud thuds of two bodies heavily dropping onto the room floor, with next to come another thumping noise as another body descended with immense force onto its dazed opponents. Last of all which came from the college dorm was a cackling, animalistic laugh, bearing within this evil mirth a victor's sadistic triumph and desire for feasting upon the flesh of its defeated prey.

At that point, the onlooker would've been running for dear life away down the corridor, all without seeing how the room's door now silently swung shut, concealing from a grateful world whatever might then horrifically occur in this darkened space.

With the overhead light now turned on, Bob and D-Day were standing against the far wall, having been yanked up and propelled to slam against there. Fearfully pressing themselves back up as far as possible, the two young men gawked at their captor, one Xander Harris. It was difficult to guess which terrified the Delta members more, the bare body of the adult that was covered with innumerable scars from fang and claw and blade, all culminating in the gaping crater on his face - or the tightly-gripped fire axe in this older man's hands, with Xander thumbing the edge of this weapon as he glared at his prisoners.

D-Day was the first to speak, as he gulped, "Mac, what the hell happened to you? Were you some kind of lion tamer or soldier, getting all torn up like that?"

Xander continued to test the sharpness of the fire axe, until he blandly replied, "Well, if you really want to know, I'll tell you - but then I'll have to kill you both."

Watching how his uninvited guests instantly cringed at hearing what he'd just said, Xander let a stern look appear upon his countenance, successfully hiding how he was howling with laughter inside. Judging from their expressions, this had to be the first time in their lives those guys ever heard that exact threat! True, Xander wasn't sure precisely when that phrase came into existence in his home dimension, but he might've just originated it right here and now! Okay, okay, he'd laugh himself sick later, but for now, it was time to get down to business.

Slinging back the fire axe to rest upon his shoulder, Xander just managed to keep a straight face at seeing the immediate looks of relief this were produced by his prisoners due to this action. The older man dressed only in his boxer underwear now cleared his throat, to politely ask, "Do you have an actual reason for bursting here in the middle of the night, something like this place is on fire?"

For the first time, Bob weakly contributed his own comment, "Uh, we, we just wanted to welcome you to Delta." At seeing how Xander's eyebrows rose in bemusement over hearing that, the house president went on in a very subdued voice, "Yeah, you got pledged, but if you've changed your mind, that's all right! Just let us go in one piece, and there won't be any hard feelings-"

"Relax, fellas!" guffawed Xander, grinning at his captives, who were beginning to sense they might survive this after all. A chuckling New Council member affably went on, "Just let me get dressed, and we'll head back to the fraternity. However, before that, there's one teeny little detail I want to arrange between the three of us."

D-Day and Bob stared in sheer puzzlement at their companion, who went on while looking at the latter member of Delta House. "Bob, as president, you normally hand out the pledge names, right? Well, I want to pick my own."

An unthinking D-Day indignantly blurted out, "You can't do that! Only the house can name the pledge-!"

_THUNK!_

With a downward flick of his arm and hand, Xander had expertly flipped forward the fire axe, causing it to make a half-spin before the keen blade buried itself into the wall at the space between the two heads of Bob and D-Day. Glancing out of the corners of their wide eyes at this still-quivering fire axe affixed to the room wall, the horror-struck Delta members simultaneously chorused through paling lips, "Whatever you want!"

* * *

An hour later in the fraternity's basement, after welcoming the new pledges who would forever be called 'Pinto' and 'Flounder', Bob Hoover called over the raucous calls of his fellow Deltas to announce, "And our last pledge - brothers, I want you to welcome Xander Harris, who after careful thought, we've decided to name him…SILVER!"

There was a moment of confused silence in the basement, until Boon gathered his drunken wits to loudly object, "Wait a second! Long John Silver from the book _Treasure Island_, he had a peg-leg, not an eyepatch!"

Smirking as he stepped forward, Xander growled in suitable fashion at the entire crowd staring back at him, "Aaarrhh, me hearties, 'tis my fate to always be thought of as a pirate, so meself might as well be named after the best known buccaneer that ever sailed the seven seas! An' if ye don't like that, ye can choose your doom of walkin' the plank or bein' keelhauled an' then tossed to the sharks! Now, shut yer gob, an' let's break out the rum!"

With a thunderous cheer, the mob of college students in the Delta basement, lifted high their beer bottles and everyone got down to serious drinking. After thoroughly baptizing Silver with an entire keg, of course.


	3. Chapter 3

Jogging past the small group of young women clustered together on the college sidewalk, Xander smirked at the awed gasps and shocked giggles he left behind in his wake. *Wonder what they're gonna come up with for the next rumor?* the New Council member internally chuckled to himself. Lengthening his stride to finish off his usual five-mile run at double-time for the last few hundred yards, the man wearing nothing but gym shorts and sneakers easily pounded down the asphalt path, enjoying how the cool fall breeze was drying the sweat streaming down his scarred, muscular body currently exposed to the elements.

Xander slowed and at last came to a halt by one of Faber College's classrooms, to then immediately start his cooling-down exercises. As he bent and twisted his toned form, this one-eyed guy still managed to spot how the side windows of the classroom had promptly filled up with the heads of numerous female students now watching him in their total fascination. Just barely keeping from letting an ear-to-ear grin appear on his face, a deadpan Xander instead continued to work out, all while mentally congratulating himself, *It took getting sent into a damn movie, but you finally wound up being the baddest dude on campus!*

Well, it was true. So far, the most outrageous story he'd managed to overhear about himself had been a tie between 'French Foreign Legion deserter' and 'great white hunter who intentionally shot his last client.' Still, Xander was willing to bet that sooner or later, someone at Faber College would surely come up with an even more fantastic yarn about that guy with the eyepatch, who gave everybody the impression he could beat up the entire 101st Airborne with one hand tied behind his back.

*Actually, I might have to use both hands,* snickered Xander inside his head. He then decided to add a little more fuel to the flames of campus gossip. Straightening up, the man with serious scars over his entire body now started to expertly perform a tai chi routine, which must have appeared totally bizarre to the onlookers, all who'd undoubtedly never seen anything in the present year of 1962 exactly like this Chinese form of graceful physical exercises. Eventually finishing his workout, Xander then strolled off without looking back, but he was quite sure there were now loud sighs of feminine disappointment being produced by the girls in the classroom behind him at the ending of their free show.

Waiting until he was completely out of sigh, Xander started quietly laughing. This was the most fun he'd had in _years._ As he continued his walk through the campus, the former Sunnydale resident had to admit that his friends back at Cleveland in their own home dimension fifty years in the future would have a hard time understanding this, but Xander was genuinely enjoying his vacation. The man who'd spent most of his lifetime on various Hellmouths really couldn't call it anything else but that, what with having a chance to kick back and relax, while still trying to figure out just why he was here in the first place.

Sobering up slightly, Xander thought over the events of the last week or so. Unfortunately, the end result of this was the usual big fat zero about what that overbearing PTB had been yakking about, the mysterious 'guy who must be protected' and the unknown 'girl in danger.' Honestly, he'd _looked,_ checking out what had to be every single kid around the school. Sorry to say, this seemingly accomplished nothing at all, except maybe making him a familiar sight to everyone here, which might be good or bad. It was still too early to tell.

Even investigating the teachers here by the simple expedient of attending their classes hadn't resulted in any real progress. Though, as Xander unknowingly smirked, he'd managed a few days ago to get a seat in the back of one special classroom. This had ended in the vastly entertaining spectacle of watching at first hand Professor Jennings' meltdown in class. Afterwards, when the other students had departed, Xander had been about to leave himself, until he'd glanced over his shoulder to see this very depressed English teacher slumped at his desk, his face in his hands. Feeling a spark of real pity rise in his chest, Xander had turned around and approached the guy, who'd looked up in surprise at seeing a stranger with an eyepatch standing in front of his desk. Right after this, Xander had suggested they have a drink together.

In his bad mood, Jennings had been more than willing to do this, cutting his next classes without any notice given, and going off to one of the bars nearby the college. There, the teacher had a chance to fully vent his spleen, ranting about having to teach unappreciative, snot-nosed kids, all while downing the numerous rounds of booze his new friend had cheerfully brought while having nothing but Coke for himself. Afterwards, a staggering professor had been escorted with a very supportive arm during their walk back to this teacher's college quarters, where he'd later woken up in his own bed with an awesome hangover.

Stumbling around the kitchen of his house while lifting with trembling hands to his mouth a desperately-needed cup of hot coffee, Jennings couldn't remember the later parts of painting the town red together with a very sympathetic listener. It was no wonder, given his alcohol-hazed brain had forgotten right away reciting out loud several times from what had just been scribbled down onto a bar napkin. Even then, an exact double of Donald Sutherland had been too amiably drunk to inquire just exactly why he needed to declare, "Always with the negative waves, Moriarty, always with the negative waves."

Tucking away inside his head a newly-acquired memory sure to be treasured for life, Xander went back to mulling over his total lack of success in discovering any valid reason for being magically transported into the movie comedy known as _Animal House._ Continuing to stroll through Faber College, Xander soon became distracted by the other happy recollections bubbling up in his brain. First among these were his recent times spent hanging out with the guys at Delta House.

Look, he loved his ladies, one and all back in Cleveland, but until he'd actually gotten away from there, Xander had no idea just how much he'd needed some man-time with other males. Living for years with the estrogen gang at the Slayers House guarding that city's Hellmouth had worrisomely initiated a bit too successful the process of turning Xander into one of the girls. He'd actually started obsessing about Simon Cowell's departure from _American Idol,_ for God's sake!

It'd been a real relief being able to spend time around the fraternity house, just bullshitting with his Delta brothers. During all that, Xander had joyously returned to the covenant of the world's other half, which had already lasted innumerable years from the time of the last Ice Age to the present era. There really wasn't all that much difference from bloodily celebrating a mammoth kill to joining with a bunch of your buddies in fixing up a clunker in someone's garage so the spluttering car would reach the end of the block without the engine exploding. Not to mention in both of those occasions, nobody of the female gender would ever be around to bestow a supremely disapproving look over anybody letting loose a major fart. Rather, the other guys there would enthusiastically give their judgment regarding the duration, volume, and aroma intensity of that flatulence event.

Xander's pleased expression as he fondly remembered how the brothers had indeed helped him repair the used car he'd bought earlier this week soon began to fade, as the one-eyed man went on to bear in mind the reminder that'd come afterwards, in that he had an actual purpose here. It'd all happened without the slightest warning, when Xander had taken his patched-up vehicle on a test drive around the local roads. Right in the middle of traveling down a street about ten miles from the campus, Xander had found himself a split second later driving _back_ to Faber College - yet having no memory at all of turning around. Cautious testing over the next couple of hours resulted in Xander learning that whether in a car or even on foot, he couldn't get past a certain magical point from the school. Instead, he was automatically returned to face where Faber was and heading on his way back there, whether he liked it or not.

Wryly shrugging his shoulders as he cut through an alley behind the college buildings on his way to take a shower in his dorm room, a rueful Xander acknowledged he'd really needed this notice that life here wasn't going to be all fun and games. However, given that he _still_ had no clue as what to-

Xander halted in his tracks, his head snapping up as his train of thought was instantly broken by what he'd just smelled:

_Demon._

Silently stepping to put his back against the wall of one of the buildings making up the side of the alley, Xander hastily looked around to locate exactly what was giving off that scent of some member of a species that was most decidedly not human. A flicker of motion about a couple dozen yards further up the alley caught Xander's attention, who tensed, ready for action against- *A kitchen worker?"*

Staring at where someone dressed in filthy cooking whites had their back to him after just stepping out of a rear door and getting ready to smoke a cigarette, Xander unknowingly let a predator's snarl distort his face. Without making any sound at all, the one-eyed man stalked towards his newfound prey, stooping down when he was halfway there to pick up a nice, big rock that had just a moment ago been lying peacefully on the alley floor…

A last-second rush of common sense to Xander's brain kept him from hitting _too_ hard with the rock. Still, as the other guy slumped face-down onto the stained alley asphalt, to then start faintly groaning in that victim's near-insensibility, Xander beamed in absolute triumph. This victorious expression subtly changed into actual alarm, as the New Council member uncertainly eyed what looked to be nothing but some ordinary, one-hundred-percent human lying at his feet, almost out cold. Could he'd have just made a teeny little error that was gonna land him in a hell of a lot of trouble?

Frowning, Xander gazed at the back door from where his target had just left. A few moments' frantic recollection had him at last identify that this was a rear entrance to the college cafeteria beyond. Looking down in absolute bewilderment at the guy there, Xander blinked at seeing something odd protrude from the back collar of this worker's kitchen shirt. Bending forward to hook and pull down a finger, Xander stared in shock at what was revealed by this. An instant later, the New Council member had ripped up the shirtail to expose the whole back of what was now thankfully revealed to be nothing else but some kind of supernatural creature.

After all, humans don't usually have purple fur covering their entire bodies.

Well…after a little more investigating, purple fur everywhere except for where this guy's outfit showed off his exposed, bare, shaved skin to other people. Xander was truly relieved over this, given that he'd also just remembered what species this was, and that he'd been absolutely correct in walloping the specific example of this kind at his feet. Even if the New Council member man hadn't known in advance that Tz'lek demons were also in this dimension, it was best to dispose each and every one of them as quickly as possible. They were all nasty pieces of work, each bearing in their unholy minds a major dislike for humanity. Which these demons tended to prove by signing up with the most recent Evil Overlord at the nearest 'Minions R'Us' whenever the next apocalypse approached.

Shaking his head in sudden concern, Xander contined to search the still-breathing body of the demon. He didn't find anything until he stuck his hand into the left back pocket, and pulled out-

"_OW!_" yelped Xander, hastily letting go of the small metal flask with glowing runes covering the outer surface of this bottle. Shaking his tingling fingers, Xander retreated a few steps away, only to come to a dead stop when the cap of the flask popped off when the container hit the alley floor. A sudden awful stench spread throughout the alley, causing Xander to gasp for breath, until when a few moments later the pale liquid that had just poured from the flask abruptly changed into a vapor that then dissipated into thin air.

Xander spun around to regard with total panic the rear door of the cafeteria. An horrible idea had just occurred to him, helped along by one of his Sunnydale memories, about the time at his old high school when one of the cafeteria ladies had planned to poison Xander's fellow students-

About to dash through the door, Xander hesitated, realizing he didn't know if there were any more Tz'lek demons inside the cafeteria kitchen with all its knives and forks and other pointy kitchenware, who might object just a wee bit to this. Plus, even if he got through the kitchen safely into the cafeteria itself, how the hell was he going to keep the people in there from eating the possibly contaminated lunches they'd just brought?

Grimacing, Xander spotted a side passage a few steps up running along the outer right side of the cafeteria. Instantly making his decision, the New Council member sprinted down the passage, leaving behind the demon he'd just clobbered. Ignoring this, Xander burst out from the mouth of the passage, to then stand there in front of the cafeteria, frantically looking around while trying to come up with some, any, kind of plan. Maybe he could get in there, yell "Fire!", hustle everyone out-

A minute or later, Xander came trotting back down the side passage, only to snarl a savage, "Awww, _crap!_" at seeing nothing but an empty spot on the alley floor where his victim had formerly been resting. Obviously, this Tz'lek demon had woken up and sensibly decamped before Xander could have a little heart-to-heart discussion with that bastard. Standing there with his fists on his hips, Xander glared around at the empty alley. Okay, so what was he supposed to do now?

Gnawing at his lower lip in intense thought, Xander admitted to himself that he finally had to get serious about this. So, that meant once again roaming through the campus, only this time keeping a closer eye on everything while trying to trace that Tz'lek demon and any friends of that fiend. It was Sunnydale time once again, where staying alive meant you had to be suspicious every single moment. Nodding in silent agreement, Xander was abruptly distracted by the loud yelling and crashing and shattering sounds that managed to make their way from inside the cafeteria past the closed rear door.

Smirking while he jogged down the alley to get back to his dorm room, Xander congratulated himself at suggesting to one of his Delta brothers out front a few moments before that things needed a little enlivening, so why didn't Bluto drop into the cafeteria and start a food fight?

* * *

Later that same night:

"-SO GET OUT THERE AND DON'T COME BACK EXCEPT WITH GOOD NEWS!" roared Grazlar the Mighty, seriously straining the vocal cords of his human host. Instantly seizing upon this chance to leave their enraged leader's presence as fast as possible, the horde of demonic minsions stampeded out by the way of the cellar door of their vile lair, otherwise know as the basement to the Dean's House.

Glaring after his incompetent followers, the monster pretending to be Dean Wormer exasperatedly closed his eyes and he started cursing to himself. It'd been just a simple chore, putting the last of the magic potion into the college students' food that would prepare these young humans to completely submit to his plans. Only, that idiotic demon ordered to complete this task had somehow totally blundered! Not only hadn't this underling accomplished this adulteration of todays' cafeteria meals, but he'd managed to get exposed in his true form after being ambushed by some unseen assailant!

Leaning back in his La-Z-Boy recliner, Grazlar meditatively stared up at the cork-lined ceiling. This was _serious. _Over all the years of unsuccessfully trying to bring doom to the unaware inhabitants of this bucolic community, nobody had ever even suspected Grazlar and his followers of being anything but normal humans. Now, somebody was out there who knew for sure there were worse things around the campus besides Commie pinko subversives. Unfortunately, the only thing Grazlar could presently do about it was to keep a wary eye out, since the forthcoming ceremonies advancing his plans could in no way be delayed or canceled. Other than that, it would be up to his unknown adversary as to what might next happen.

Glowering upwards at these unwelcome thoughts, Grazlar felt his stomach rumble, and he hastily brought his recliner to the upright position, as he began to loudly cough. Still continuing to noisily expel air from his body, Grazlar was becoming a little worried, until he finally managed to hack up the large hairball onto the top of the coffee table at his side. Giving a disdainful look at the matted wad of purple fur lying on this piece of furniture, Grazlar groused to himself, "Oh, wonderful. Now I'll be having the taste of that in my mouth for the rest of the night!"


	4. Chapter 4

Pure black clothing doesn't really work for burglary in the normal world, despite what all the movies and television shows try to convey. During real life, there's often too much contrast between the murky illumination at night and this completely dark garb, making it much easier to observe anyone attempting a felonious entry. Besides, the cops are remarkably deaf to any excuses offered by someone they've detained while that character is wearing a monochromatic outfit which only needs an empty cloth sack and a domino mask to finish off the whole ridiculous cliché.

Silently making his way through the darkness of Faber College's grounds well after the midnight hour, a confident Xander Harris strolled down the dimly-lit campus sidewalk, all while dressed in his ordinary attire of jeans, sneakers, and a maroon sweatshirt. *Hello, officer, just taking a walk around the block to try to get some sleep. It's the only thing I've found that helps with my insomnia. Say, you got any ideas on how to doze off more easily?* The oddest part was, people were at any time more than eager to offer advice about someone's wakefulness. The only thing that brought forth even more suggestions from them was on how to deal with a serious case of hiccups.

The man also wearing his eyepatch kept on walking, ignoring the rubbing of his sock against the several small steel implements taped to the inside of his left ankle. A few minutes' work earlier today on his own in the Delta House garage after rummaging through the piles of junk in there had produced a fair enough set of lockpicks. These were sure to be needed, given his task tonight of searching through the shut-down buildings of Faber College.

Xander was ruefully aware he could've simply _asked_ around the fraternity. Without a doubt, inside five minutes, someone would've produced a complete collection of duplicate keys to every locked door, file cabinet, cupboard, and security device in the entire school. However, by then, all the brothers in Delta would also be genuinely curious on why the man they knew as Silver wanted the keys in the first place. Xander really didn't think they'd buy his explanation that he had to thoroughly investigate the school for demons and other supernatural creatures.

Or maybe they would. Mulling this over, Xander shuddered slightly at the very thought of the more crazier guys in Delta ever getting their hands on some real magic. It'd been bad enough years ago back at Sunnydale U, what with those various college jerks there being involved in human sacrifices and the other weird Hellmouth stuff the Scooby Gang had to deal with at this California university branch near the Boca del Infierno. Xander was _reasonably_ sure that Bob, Boon, Otter, et al, wouldn't go that far, but they'd certainly insist on doing something previously impossible and seriously humiliating to those stuck-up dipwads at Omega House. Like, say, turning 'em all into beavers or some other ridiculous animal. Actually, Xander himself was honestly in favor of this, but right now, he had to start looking around the campus for some hint as to why he was stuck in the _Animal House_ movie. So far, while he'd already managed to discover the presence of demons (well, _one_ demon), there seemed to be no specific reason for his presence in this comedy film.

So, where to go first? Maybe there'd be some clues in the cafeteria, or he could check out the lair of supreme evil known as the gym, or how about the Administration Building, where there were now a couple of guys leading a white horse towards that place…

_Waaaait_ a minute.

Halting in his tracks in the shadows, but not otherwise moving (motion attracts the eye), Xander felt a sudden grin tug at the corners of his mouth. He continued to gleefully watch what was taking place at the front of the building ahead. After getting the main doors open, the three guys which he managed to recognize even this far away as Flounder, D-Day, and Bluto eventually persuaded the suspicious horse to enter the structure, and then someone closed the doors behind themselves.

Jogging forward, Xander headed right at the Administration Building, sniggering quietly under his breath during this short journey. Oh, yeah, he remembered that exact scene in the movie. Tonight, the two senior Delta brothers had found Flounder in the school stables glumly cleaning out the stall of the hated horse ridden by his equally despised ROTC commander. A few minutes of fast talking finally convinced the pudgy college student to join in with the other pair to pull off a glorious prank by sneaking the horse into the Dean's office. Of course, the movie had skipped over the minor details of how this had actually happened, which was why Xander had just decided to go over there. Not that he'd announce himself to the guys or anything else; why should he spoil their fun? But Xander _did_ want to see how things were working out with the horse. It'd probably be hilarious, too, which was as good as a reason as any.

Stopping in front of the closed main doors, Xander gently tugged on the left-side handle, causing this panel to slowly swing open. Fine, the Deltas hadn't locked it after themselves. Leaving the door only a few inches ajar, the New Council member pressed his face to this gap, and he peered through it with his remaining eye into the illuminated entrance hall. It was completely deserted, but as Xander lowered his gaze, he spotted a clear and evident clue, right at the foot of the landing of the main staircase set in the center of the room. Wryly shaking his head, Xander pulled the door fully open, and he slipped inside the building, carefully closing the door behind him afterwards.

Now that he was in the entrance hall with various offices and other rooms at the sides of the corridors running beyond the stairs, the sounds coming from the upper floor were easily distinguishable. Particularly the stomping hooves, the incessant cursing, and a nervous equine's whickering. Grinning at the staircase, Xander had to admire how the Deltas had already gotten their escorted beast up to at least the second story. From what he was hearing, they were still determinedly making their way to the Dean's office on the next floor. Still, even if a night watchman now showed up and somehow ignored the unusual noises coming from on high, that security guard was surely bound to notice the still-steaming mound of horse droppings on the floor in front of the stairs.

Rolling his single eye in sheer exasperation at his Delta brothers' carelessness, Xander looked around. Yep, there was an utilitarian-style door tucked away at an inner wall at the right side of the building. Striding over, the man grabbed and twisted the doorknob, only to find it was locked. No problem. Xander bent over and slipped his hand into his left sock. Wincing slightly as some leg hair came loose, Xander ripped free the lockpicks from the tape holding them, and he straighted up with his hand full of several short steel rods with oddly shaped heads.

Giving the locked door a considering gaze, one specific pick was chosen, but not for its intended purpose. Xander instead used the slimmest head as a jimmy, sliding it down through the space between the vertical edge of the door and the jamb. A quick twist of his fingers successfully forced the door bolt back into its socket. When the door popped ajar, Xander absently tucked away the lock picks into his front jeans pocket, and he pulled the door completely open, only to peer into absolute blackness.

Putting a hand past the doorway and groping against the inside wall, Xander's fingers found and flicked on a light switch. This revealed a short corridor with another, equally prosaic door at the end of the passageway. Going inside, the man again tried the newest door, which this time was unlocked. Again turning on the lights in there, Xander nodded in satisfaction at discovering a janitor's closet. A few seconds of rummaging around in the closet resulted in finding a broom and a dustpan. Carrying these cleaning tools while stepping out of the corridor into the entrance hall, Xander abruptly came to a dead stop.

The one-eyed man slowly turned around to stare in disbelief at the still-open doorway from which he'd just left. It'd been totally unexpected, and Xander had felt only the most fleeting of familiar tingles, but when he'd passed through that corridor, the Sunnydale survivor had sensed…_magic._


	5. Chapter 5

Standing in the Administration Building corridor, Xander decided that he'd been mistaken, there wasn't anything here, he might as well as leave-

Catching himself, the one-eyed man instantly glared around at the small enclosed space between the entrance hall and the janitor's closet, which consisted solely of bare concrete walls on either side of Xander. Whatever magic spell was now working on him, it was damn subtle. On the other hand…that muted enchantment which managed to cleverly influence anybody who came along to not pay attention to anything here had an obvious weakness, in that it couldn't be very powerful, lest it defeat the whole purpose by actually attracting someone's notice. Savagely grinning, Xander fumbled in his jeans pocket, and he pulled out one of his lockpicks.

This specific small steel rod had as its head a pointed end. It wasn't exactly shaped like a needle, but it was still sharp enough to gouge into the tip of his left pinky with a quick jab. As a single drop of blood welled up from the minor wound, Xander patiently daubed the entire head of the lockpick with this red bead, and then he lifted the injured finger to his mouth. Sucking on the fingertip, Xander also began cautiously waving with his other hand the lockpick held up in the air while holding it out away from him. Blood and forged iron were pretty powerful forces in magic; besides, his own blood had some really bizarre supernatural qualities due to having been born on a Hellmouth. Not to mention the other gazillion weird things Xander Harris had been involved with ever since he'd fallen off his skateboard back in high school after catching sight of a truly hot blonde girl.

Making a particularly wide sweep of his arm, Xander was looking directly at the corridor's right side wall when it abruptly vanished. At the same time, he felt an immaterial snapping sensation within his brain, accompanied by the ending of the mental suggestion that had been for the last few seconds quietly telling him to go away, _now._ Yeah, right, there was probably some totally innocent reason for the magical concealment of the flight of service stairs leading downwards which had just been revealed by the destruction of the notice-me-not illusion. Eyeing these steps while he tucked the lockpick back into his pocket, Xander tried to calculate the odds that taking a little visit downstairs would only result in finding himself inside a diamond mine with seven dwarves in there busily working away, all while singing "Hi-ho, hi-ho!" in chorus. Afterwards, of course, he'd be amiably invited to dinner by these height-challenged persons at their house along with their newest guest, some young lady with a real fondness for apples, even when this shiny fruit was offered by complete strangers.

Cynically shaking his head, Xander ducked back into the janitor's closet, looking for anything in there which would work as a decent weapon. Hey, all that had been intended for tonight was reconnaissance, not a raid on an enemy position. He'd have come all tooled up if the latter had been the case, but for now, all Xander had on himself for offensive purposes were the lockpicks and a small pocketknife, with this cutting tool brought along only because the man broke out in serious hives without _some_ kind of edged steel in his possession at all times. Still, it was a genuine pity he couldn't get back to his dorm room and pick up some of the numerous implements of mayhem stored there and then return here, but Xander knew it was more than possible that whoever had put up the illusion in the first place was now aware it was gone. So, he probably had just a limited amount of time to investigate what lurked down those steps. Okay, then, let's see now…

*Sigh.* Cleaning supplies, toilet paper, trash cans, a mop that'd do great if he wanted to polish some monster to death. However, that mop's wooden handle had definite possibilities- Hmmm, what do we have over there?

A minute later, after a soft cracking sound followed by whittling noises had come from the janitor's closet, Xander himself exited that small room, brandishing a makeshift stake in his left hand and an ordinary claw hammer in his other hand. He'd found this common handyman's tool lying on a shelf in the closet, which had helped him to quickly shape the stake from its former employment as a mop handle. Plus, as Xander expertly twirled the hammer in his right hand, with this you could do some significant damage to most demons, from a fairly-experienced vampire to any lower-level fiend, if you knew exactly how to use it.

He was old enough now so that almost half of his entire lifetime had been spent fighting against various belligerent creatures of the night. Therefore, Xander damned well _did_ know how to use the hammer for its maximum aggressive effect. Stepping over to stand at the top of the service stairs, the one-eyed man nonchalantly held both weapons ready with easy authority, as he listened for any sounds which might be coming from downstairs.

* * *

Pausing in his pacing around the inside of the massive pentagram taking up most of the basement floor, the Tz'lek demon known as Linshdanoj glumly gazed at the battered, wind-up alarm clock perched upon the seat of the rickety chair set across the room against the far wall, all while shifting on his aching feet. It was still another half-hour until his next break, and the only thing Linshdanoj could think of to cheer himself up was that at least he didn't have to cut short the respite from tonight's duties by using up part of these precious ten minutes while using the basement toilet.

Giving another yearning look at the chair over there representing the only chance of relaxing he'd have for the rest of his shift, Linshdanoj started walking again. As he traveled along the inner edges of the pentagram, the demon automatically made sure to never step over the lines drawn on the floor, or even to let any other part of his body move past these. He'd been told in extensive and very grisly detail exactly what would happen to him should he ever do this, and the threats had been terrifying enough that for the entire first night alone, a trembling Linshdanoj hadn't dared to budge from the center of the pentagram. Save for his breaks, of course. Every ten minutes on the hour, he could safey pass through the imaginary walls of the mystical symbol marked by the stripes on the concrete floor. However, if he ever failed to be back inside the pentagram before the time was up, his hideous fate would be spoken of in whispers for centuries and used to scare little Tz'lek demons into being good and eating every bit of their vegetables. Even the really icky ones, that felt and tasted like sludge crawling down your throat.

Continuing to walk his perimeter, Linshdanoj blankly stared straight ahead, no longer bothering to notice anything at all in the basement. He'd seen it all hundreds of times in his endless circling, because THERE WAS NOTHING ELSE TO DO! His fingers tightening around the ceremonial dagger carried in his right hand, the demon dressed solely in his purple fur again resumed the only thing that had preserved his sanity over the last few nights:

Complaining out loud.

"What were you _thinking,_ oh Grazlar the Mighty? Yes, yes, any opportunity to capture the soul of an innocent is priceless, so I really understand your excitement when you set up this room's frimjilk-damned pentagram, once you learned from the seer that it'd show up right here in this place. Must've been a big letdown, though, when it didn't happen the first night five months ago, or the next night, or the next! Couldn't you have at least gotten your money back when you visited the seer again, and got told the visions were hazy on exactly _when_ that blerzak soul would finally condescend to appear!"

Drawing in a deep breath for a contemptuous snort, Linshdanoj continued his rant. "Of course, you couldn't have simply cut your losses and given up. Instead, just like any big boss, you assigned your seconds-in-command to do the job. Except nothing happened for them, either! So just like snerg-dung flows downhill, they passed on the whole boring chore to the lesser ranks, and when there weren't any more volunteers, it got turned into a punishment detail!"

Now really on a roll, a fed-up Linshdanoj completely cut loose. "Like it was my fault those pink-skins threw their food at each other in the meal hut! I should've been praised for not slaughtering them on the spot, but I got stuck here instead! It's times like these that I hope those creatures ignore the spell up there and come snooping around! Ooooo, what I'd do to them!" The demon finished his last words by enthusiastically flourishing his dagger, slashing and stabbing the air in front of himself for a while.

Eventually becoming a bit calmer, Linshdanoj let his tired arm fall to his furry side, as he further grumbled while maintaining his irked stroll, "What's it with big bosses and their big plans, always sticking to the prophecies made and never taking advantage of the situation? Why don't we just massacre everybody here, and then claim we meant to do it in the first place? But, no, we've got to obey Grazlar the Mighty, with his years and years and years of devious, elaborate, failed plots and, and…" Linshdanoj let his voice trail off, as a puzzled expression crossed his shaved face while he tried to think of the word that was right on the tip of his tongue-

"Schemes," was obligingly offered.

Brightening up, Linshdanoj gratefully finished, "Yeah, schemes! It's always like that! Once you become the big boss, somehow nobody remembers how easy it is to cut a throat, or a few thousand! Instead, you've got to arrange things so that all your foes get exterminated by some rare poison found only in some king's tomb halfway across the world, and while you're busy with this, your dumbest enemy sneaks into the castle and bashes in your head with a rock!"

"Damn straight, plus during all that, the Evil Overlord always insists his minions have to dress up in some stupid and useless outfit like robes or jumpsuits or sets of armor with full face masks having little eye slits you can barely see through."

Firmly nodding in agreement, Linshdanoj looked down with satisfaction at his magneta fur in all its glory, to then aggressively declare, "Why do I have to hide who I am, anyway? I'm purple, and I'm proud!"

"Right on, brother!"

Stopping and turning around to beam at the human there smirking back, who'd been quietly following a step behind the demon for the last minute or so, Linshdanoj's joy at encountering someone who actually _cared_ immediately turned into absolute horror. Unable to think of anything else to do at this precise moment, the panicked demon lashed out with his dagger, thrusting his razor-sharp weapon directly at this unanticipated adversary's face. Right over the line on the floor marking the edge of the pentragram.

Having watched how that totally clueless hairy dude had avoided getting anywhere near the sides of the big, honkin' shape on the floor and knowing what this meant, Xander standing there outside the pentragram didn't react right away. Rather, he leaned back, letting the dagger flash past his head, just before the man's left hand shot up to grab the wrist of the demon's extended arm and yanking this unholy creature forward completely off his feet, bringing that fiend's upper body all the way out past the lines on the ground. It happened much too fast for Linshdanoj to effectively react, except for his eyes to widen in dismay at seeing a hammer being swung his way, with what looked like enough force to cave in his entire skull…

A few moments later, Xander was ignoring the corpse sprawled face-down on the basement floor, lying halfway out of the pentagram. The New Council member was far more interested in the dagger he'd just picked up off the ground, examining this closely. Xander had seen its like before several times over the years in his own dimension, but they were pretty rare. Identical in nature to one of the Orbs of Thesulah used by Willow Rosenberg for the ensouling spell to change Angelus back to Angel during the Acathla affair, this mystical knife could contain and store someone's soul, for whatever purpose afterwards intended by the owner of this device.

Shrugging, Xander slipped the dagger into an empty jeans pocket. There was no point in leaving this thing here in the basement, given what he'd just heard from that dumbass demon. *Grazlar the Mighty…geez, could you get even more Evil Overlordish than _that?_* However, no matter how much fun he was having, it was time to clean up and get gone. Once Xander was back in his dorm room, then he could afford to go over in detail over everything he'd learned here. Glancing sideways to check out the body of his latest defeated opponent, the man noticed it wasn't dissolving right away like the demons in his home world helpfully did after they died. That might be kind of a problem, leaving behind actual corpses in his wake and giving a heads-up to this jerk's big boss. Well, nothing for it but to take it along with him.

Xander stooped to grab with his left hand the closest of the corpse's limp arms. At the same time several stories straight overhead, a Delta frat brother had his eyes tightly closed, as he tremblingly pointed a pistol loaded with blanks in the general direction of a very irritiated horse. This beast, affectionately dubbed Trooper by his owner, had been brought into this unfamiliar place from his comfortable stall, and he'd had to gingerly climb several flights of exhausting stairs. Now, in the Dean's office, Trooper was angrily shaking his head at the young man nicknamed Flounder, whose finger now jerked on the trigger of the pistol.

_BANG!_

The entire office shook, as nearly a half-ton of equine flesh dropped like a stone to the carpet after Trooper instantly died from a heart attack caused by that startling noise. Down in the basement a fraction of a second later, the lines of the pentagram glowed brilliantly with an eldritch fire. Except at the spot where Xander was presently dragging a demon's body out of this occult symbol. From where Linshdanoj's ankle was resting on the stripe, the glow flashed upwards with blinding speed along the upper surface of his rapidly-cooling body right to where Xander gripped the demon's arm. Occuring far too quickly for him to even think of letting go, the remainder of a soul was attracted by a certain dagger as it traveled along the one-eyed man's fingers, outlining his entire form in a fiery, numinous radiance.

A couple of minutes later, Xander Harris staggered outside through the main entrance of the Administration Building, passing through this without any trouble since the double doors were still wide open after being recently flung ajar during a trio's headlong flight out of the building to get away from a prank gone really wrong. Holding his head, which now contained yet _another _unwanted visitor to add to his lifetime collection of possessions, Xander lurched across the front lawn into the general direction of his dorm room. He really couldn't think of anything else to do, not when Xander had to deal with both the unfamiliar sensation of walking exclusively on two feet instead of his normal four hooves, but the man was also barely holding in a terrified whinny.


	6. Chapter 6

While he desperately held onto with both hands the metal pole of the campus streetlamp shining above his shivering form, Xander Harris still hadn't made up his mind what he'd do first after getting back home and meeting his bestest bud again. It was still a toss-up on whether the one-eyed man would immediately kiss Willow Rosenberg, or kill her.

Okay, that last might be a little bit of an exaggeration, but as Xander dry-heaved again, he irascibly assured himself that Wils would, at the very least, be the recipient of a serious scolding in his most aggravated tone. The lesbian witch could've explicitly _warned_ him about this back then!

* * *

It'd all begun several years ago, when after the destruction of Sunnydale, Xander and Willow had gladly reconnected with each other. Much to the regret of them both, their various attempts at relationships over time had never really worked out for these former California residents, who'd already had too much heartache over those they'd loved and lost. Naturally, the man with a single eye and a red-haired woman turned to someone familiar who was quite willing to offer genuine sympathy and a ready shoulder to cry upon. During this, the friends since kindergarten once more regained the absolute trust and devotion they'd had as children, taking comfort in carrying out the established rituals they'd shared together while growing up in their vanished hometown.

The most sacrosanct tradition for Willow and Xander always took place around the last week of December, when the two of them would jointly watch in absolutely privacy in their quarters a copy of the animated film "A Charlie Brown Christmas." Right after this, sometimes even when the credits were still rolling on the television screen, Xander would enthusiastically perform the Snoopy Dance in front of a joyful Willow.

One year, it'd wound up with them both in Willow's apartment in the Scottish castle of the New Council's main headquarters. All the lights in the living room were turned off, with only the flickering flames of the lit fireplace providing a faint illumination. Willow was sitting on the floor, her back propped up against the lower part of an armchair, while a very contended Xander was also sprawled out on the thick rug, his head resting in the witch's lap. Both were peacefully enjoying each other's company, neither of them willing to break the placid silence as they continued to watch the light snow falling outside the apartment's picture window.

Taking a sip from her cup of hot chocolate, Willow continued to stroke Xander's hair with her other hand, smiling faintly at the blissful look of pleasure this produced on her friend's face. The woman's fond gaze abruptly faded when her fingers brushed against the strap of Xander's eyepatch. Sensing Willow's body tense at the same time he felt where her hand had strayed, Xander rolled his remaining eye upwards to look into her suddenly determined features, and he waited with calm patience for what he was absolutely sure what would next happen.

After all, it'd also become a habit around this time of the year, when the most powerful witch on earth asked Xander to please let her heal his scarred face and replace his missing eye. She could definitely do this, straight away and without any pain at all, taking at the most only a few minutes. If he liked, it'd be fairly easy as well to add a few simple improvements, such as being able to see perfectly in total darkness. Though, x-ray vision would be kind of pushing it, no matter how much some male sexist pig would surely enjoy this…

Xander allowed himself the merest trace of a wicked smirk upon his lips, while he continued to expectantly gaze up at Willow's concerned face. Despite the last time when the witch had half-heartedly offered this specific option, the man gave the same polite refusal which he'd done then, and every other time his friend had made out of sheer love her caring suggestion. Xander's own deep and intense feelings of affection for everyone he considered his true family made it totally impossible for him to do anything that'd keep The One Who Sees from protecting them all. Over the years, the nickname which had been bestowed in purest scorn by the very same malicious enemy who then destroyed Xander's eye had turned out to be emphatically true.

It wasn't any sort of blatant or overt ability that might be described as an actual superpower such as the Slayers' more-than-human physical strength, speed, and healing prowess. Rather, as demonstrated too often during crises for anyone to really doubt this, Xander could examine some person, situation, or event, and then perceive with a great deal of success how to specifically deal with this. It didn't mean he'd always be right every time or even completely correct during a particular incident, but this exceedingly subtle talent went to great lengths in explaining just how an otherwise ordinary human managed to survive anything the Sunnydale Hellmouth had thrown at him.

However, just as nobody could be really sure about how exactly Xander's strange ability worked, there moreover wasn't anyone who could give him a definite answer as to what might happen if he got his eye back. It was entirely possible his weird gift might then improve - except there was likewise an equal chance this could become _worse,_ or even disappear, lock, stock, and barrel. Yeah, sure, he'd like to see things in three dimensions again, but not at the likely cost of losing something which had saved his life (and everyone else of the Scooby Gang) numerous times.

Which was why Xander was tolerantly awaiting the ensuring Resolve Face from Willow in her efforts to get him to let her try, anyway. While she acknowledged the possibility of something going wrong, the witch was also quite confident she could fix this. Nonetheless, Willow would never attempt to change her friend's stubborn nature except to continue in her hopeful quest to persuade Xander differently. It was true that he, along with the rest of the other remaining Scoobies and the entire New Council, had formally given the Red Witch permission to alter his body and mind if necessary in a real emergency, but Willow Rosenberg had also sworn an oath upon her very magic that she'd only ever do this in a true life-or-death, most apocalyptic of apocalypses, matter. The mind meddling and other misuses of her mystical powers while in Sunnydale and the resulting tragedies had forever chastened the redhead, leaving Willow now heedful of the fact there were some boundaries of behavior that should never be crossed.

Even so, while in anticipation of yet another appeal from Willow, Xander was genuinely startled when the woman instead took her hand away from his hair, made a fist, and then gently rapped her knuckles against his skull. At the same time, Xander's astonishment only increased at hearing Willow then ask, seemingly out of the blue, "So, how have your possessions been treating you lately?"

"Uh…," a flabbergasted Xander blinked at her a few times, before managing to reply, "The entire gang - Hyena, Solder-Boy, Sineya, and Swimmer - they haven't popped up for a while. A couple of years, maybe, since any of 'em actually came out to play. Why the hell are you asking?" the baffled man wanted to know.

Willow nodded wisely, as she informed her puzzled friend. "I think ever since Sunnydale, the crew in your head-"

"Given all the trouble some of them caused, I'd much rather call the whole bunch nuisances," interjected a very grumpy Xander.

Carrying on as if she'd never been interrupted, Willow confidently spoke, "-were absorbed by your personality, becoming part of yourself. They're not separate, er, people, such as Xander and Hyena or anyone else like they were the first day or week or month after you got them. Now, it's Xander _and_ Hyena _and_ all the rest."

Xander then lifted his head from Willow's lap, in addition to putting his elbows under himself to lever up his body, as he easily held this awkward position to gaze more closely into his friend's intent features. Doubtfully eyeing her, Xander said in an equally uncertain voice, "Well, Wils, you might be right, but is there an actual _point_ to this?"

Beaming at her Xander-shaped comrade, Willow assured him, "Oh, definitely. I take it that you _don't_ want any more uninvited guests inside your brain?"

The man grimaced in his absolute agreement, all while sardonically snorting, "Does Buffy always spend a whole fifteen minutes in deciding not to buy something when she goes shoe shopping?" As he then watched the very smug expression slowly develop upon the redhead's countenance, Xander realized something at once, making him cautiously demand, "Did you come up with some sort of major mojo to make sure any more potential trespassers stay the hell outta my head?"

Vigorously nodding as her eyes danced in delight, Willow replied, "Not just for you, Xan. I've finally perfected the spell to keep us all from being controlled in the future by anything of the bad trying to sneak into our minds. I'll propose it at the next Council meeting to cast it on everybody, but I can do it right now on you, if you want."

"Huh," blankly said Xander. His bemused expression quickly changed into mild alarm, as he worriedly asked, "Uh, what about 'em all sharing my skull with me? Is your spell gonna evict Hyena and the rest?"

"Oh, no," Willow hastily reassured her nervous friend. "I made sure of that. It won't affect what you've got now. Though, I have another spell to help anyone who's been possessed in the past and wants to get rid of it. But, nope, what I'm proposing is a preventive measure. Kind of like an inoculation, or a computer's protective software. It'll hold off, rip into pieces, and then get rid of any remaining parts of the new possession before it settles in."

Xander spent the next few moments thinking this over while his bestest bud good-naturedly waited for him to come to a decision. This didn't take long, given that he now fully trusted Willow about how she used her magic. The neophyte witch in Sunnydale who'd come far too soon into her immense powers without understanding how easy it was to abuse these had in time become a responsible, prudent mage. She wouldn't have brought up the whole thing in the first place unless she'd already worked out in advance any possible problems and the solutions to these, as shown by her recent answer to his objection a minute ago. That specific example of discreet forethought finally made up Xander's mind.

"Okay, Wils, go ahead. Do I - we - have to do anything first?"

Happily smiling at her friend still propped up on his elbows in front of her, Willow chuckled as she reached forward, "Just stay like that."

The man held his body absolutely still, with only his remaining eye widening a trifle as he sensed Willow's right hand touch his skull, with her palm both smooth and cool as this was pressed gently against his forehead. Xander wasn't really sure, but he thought there was the merest tingle upon his flesh when the witch's expression became unfocused for a couple of seconds. Soon enough, her blinking several times followed by the return of animation to her face, along with Willow taking her hand away and leaning back against the armchair, adequately indicated to Xander that it was all over. However…he didn't _feel_ any different, not in whatever stray nook or cranny of his mind.

Slowly letting himself back down on the floor and once more laying his head into Willow's lap, he anxiously gazed upwards while expressing this doubt to the witch glancing down at him: "Are you sure it worked, Wils? I can't tell offhand if anything's changed-"

Giving her friend a very amused look, Willow assured him, "Trust me, Xan, it's there now, and you won't experience any effects at all until this is needed when something hostile tries to break into your brain. Look, when you got your school shots for measles and mumps and everything else, you took it on faith the vaccinations would keep you safe from getting sick, right? Well, since I don't have a stray possession in one of my pockets to test on you this instant, the only way you'll ever notice anything is if it's actually working."

* * *

While clinging to the streetlamp holding at bay the darkness surrounding Faber College, Xander groaned out loud over the pain of every aching bone in his whole skeleton, "Guess what, Wils? Your possession spell's working, that's for sure, but I'm _also _noticing that it's making me feel like total crap!"

Still keeping a firm grip onto the light illuminating the campus walkway lest he fall flat on his face from sheer bodily incapacitation, Xander leaned forward to rest his perspiring forehead against the cool metal pole. Expecting actual sizzling sounds from his overheated skull touching this upright wrought iron shaft, Xander sighed with grateful relief as he instead felt his skin temperature lower perhaps a degree or two. Right now, he'd thankfully take any signs of improvement over how crummy life was for him at this exact moment. As he closed his sole eye, a very weary Xander continued to lean against the streetlamp, for once ignoring everything in his vicinity while he waited for it to be all over with, one way or the other.

Naturally, the former Sunnydale high-school student now missed how somebody was presently sneaking up on him.


	7. Chapter 7

Mandy Pepperidge was _extremely_ displeased at seeing the drunken guy there holding onto the streetlamp. But then, for the last fifteen minutes or so, ever since the recent humiliating episode at Lookout Point near Faber College, she'd been bad-temperately carrying within herself, at full incandescent boil, a truly major grudge against the entire idiotic human male species!

Starting with her lying, no-good, boyfriend Gregory Marmalard, who'd earlier during their date tonight had led her to believe that his…'little' problem had been cured for once and all. Ha! The utter falsehood of this optimistic declaration soon became more than apparent. No matter how much work she'd earnestly done in the front seat of the car, nothing had changed the status of what was currently something resembling a limp toothpick, much less an actual woody. The exasperated cheerleader soon muttered a particularly unkind remark that quickly started a screaming fight with Greg.

Which in turn, immediately resulted in a sullen trip back to Faber, and then being coldly ordered out of Mr. Floppy Noodle's car on the exact opposite end of the campus from her sorority. Absolutely sure he'd done this on purpose, Mandy had shaken a furious fist after the speedily departing sports car, its rear brake lights mockingly shining their scarlet radiance towards the irate college senior.

Angrily making her way along the dark school grounds to in the end winding up here, Mandy glared at the intoxicated man she'd have to pass by before at last arriving at the Tri Pi House a few hundred yards further on. Performing a silent sniff of unreserved contempt, the girl nevertheless stalked ahead, directly towards the guy seemingly ignorant of her presence in his drunken stupor. She wasn't scared the slightest of getting near him. Growing up roughhousing with three older brothers quickly taught Mandy just where to kick with all her might to instantly subdue any jerk who might want to take liberties with the striking blonde. Still, she was sensible enough to stay at the far side of the sidewalk, out of arm's reach while edging past-

Stopping dead in her tracks, Mandy gaped across the walkway at the man, whose scarred face was now fully revealed to her. She knew him! Well, not really, they hadn't ever actually met - but she'd seen him around the campus, and Mandy couldn't help but overhear all the unbelievable gossip the other girls in her sorority house had eagerly recounted over that fascinating older stranger with the intriguing eyepatch. Frowning to herself, Mandy now remembered there was one thing everyone agreed upon, in that somebody whose last name was Harris was the only Delta frat member who didn't drink. Not a single drop.

Come to think of it, he didn't really look drunk. Instead, he seemed to be…_sick._

Closely studying the man still clutching with a death grip onto a streetlamp, all while keeping his sole eye tightly shut in pain, Mandy started to become pretty worried. He wasn't well at all, what with his extremely pale face having sweat streaming down the sides of this, chattering teeth, and full-body shudders. Without actually thinking about it, the cheerleader asked in a very concerned tone, "Are you all right, mister?"

Taken completely by surprise, Xander violently started, his shut eye popping open while letting go of the streetlamp, to instantly spin around on the sidewalk and crouching in a defensive posture, arms extended and hands stiffened into claws. He was ready, willing, and eager for immediate action against…the startled young lady right there staring at him like he'd just lost his mind. In fact, at this exact moment, Xander gagged, and he would've lost the entire contents of his stomach if he hadn't already done this onto a handy bush five minutes ago.

Taking a cautious step back, the unknown girl watched in astonishment while Xander sheepishly straightened up, only to begin swaying on his feet, until a hurried lunge toward the streetlamp followed by a quick grab at this kept the man from collapsing to the ground.

"What's wrong with you? Should I call an ambulance?" offered the blonde, who nervously glanced down the street towards her sorority, as if judging how long it'd take for her to get to the phone inside this house.

Xander didn't speak right away. Instead, he was frantically trying to come up with a somewhat credible reason for his present plight. The really ironic part was that the New Council member never thought for a single moment of confessing he'd had too much to drink tonight. Making a snap decision among several fairly believable excuses (yet another souvenir of good ol' Sunnydale), Xander at last stammered something he sensed the girl might actually buy: "Ma-ma-malaria. I get these attacks once in a w-w-while, but I'll recover. I d-d-don't need help, thanks. Just go on, and I'll be okay, b-b-but it was nice of you to ask."

A sudden expression of stern resolve now appeared upon the blonde's features, which made Xander's heart instantly sink. He'd seen that identical look all too many times with the rest of his girls. Resignedly, he heard her firmly tell him, "Don't be ridiculous! Come on, I'll help you to the Tri Pi House, and you can lie down there and have a drink of water, some aspirin, and a blanket, until you feel better."

The quite sincere young lady now bustled forward and seized Xander's right arm, as she started to tug on his elbow in a clear signal to make him let go of the streetlamp. A very bemused Xander eventually acquiesced, with his helper then quickly draping his arm over her shoulders as she partially supported his weight while they started traveling together down the sidewalk. After half a block, the former carpenter found he'd sufficiently recovered to walk on his own, but even though Xander politely stopped leaning upon the girl, he didn't take his arm away from around her. This was because he'd just realized who she was. Specifically, one of the featured characters in the movie _Animal House._ She was called, lessee now-

Glancing up at feeling the load of a very muscular male form being taken off her own body, Mandy looked right into the slightly puzzled gaze of the rugged man with an eyepatch, who was intently examining herself. Completely without any warning, the young lady then felt a deep shiver inside her tummy, and even a little lower… Abruptly blushing brick-red, Mandy tried to squash her sudden naughty thoughts of how she'd like to get even _closer_ to the really robust guy at her side than she was now, without all their clothes they were wearing getting in the way-

Her features now absolutely scarlet, the girl blurted out, "Uh, my name's Mandy! Mandy Pepperidge!"

After introducing herself in such a juvenile manner, the mortified college student next glumly expected nothing less than being laughed at by the older man. However, after a second of looking a bit surprised, he'd started to smile while drawing in a breath to tell her his own name. Mandy's spirits started to rise at seeing she hadn't offended him - except right after that, she instantly stared in bewilderment at how the guy's face had unexpectedly become totally blank. There on his features, an actual glazed expression developed, which included a fixed eye that seemed to look directly into her soul.

Xander had almost entirely recovered from having his mind magically rejecting tonight's latest round of being possessed by yet another supernatural entity. His rapidly recovering body was also mirroring the final eradication of the last remaining portion of a horse's soul that earlier accidentally invaded his brain. Now reluctantly dissipating into non-existence, that animal's essence managed a last sardonic parting shot, gleefully whinnying: *The little filly there, her whole scent shows she's more than ready to be mounted! Judging by her haunches, it looks like she'll be able to take all-*

At that point, a very firm headshake completed the banishment of the spirit of Trooper. Unfortunately, the New Council member now found himself staring at close range into the rather alarmed countenance of someone whom he still had his arm around her shoulders while they'd continued walking. Remembering what he'd been about to say a mere second before, the hastily cleared his throat and he offered a bit shamefacedly, "I'm Xander Harris, and it you like, I'll remove my arm and we can shake hands."

Mandy blinked at hearing this, and then she surprisingly giggled. Lifting her left hand to pat the top of the male arm dangling down at her right side, the girl snickered, "Oh, don't bother." Boldly smiling at how the face of whom she now knew to be Xander brightened in relief, Mandy was encouraged enough to ask, as the side-by-side pair headed towards their destination, "Are you okay now? From what you said, malaria?"

"Oh, yeah," Xander reassured Mandy, while thinking to himself this was quite true. Apparently, what Willow had done with her witchy mojo years ago to his head had now finished its job (and not before time). Still, no matter how crappy it'd made him feel, this was finally over, and he was nearly back to normal, thanks very much, without even a stray mental twinge or two. Which meant it was best to stick to his story, since he must've looked exactly like he'd been suffering from this invented malady. "I caught it in Africa, and after I recovered and came back here, the doctors told me I should expect the occasional relapse, maybe for the rest of my life. They were right. I've had it again a few times, but at least my latest bout tonight means it'll be over for the next couple of months."

"You were in _Africa?_" squealed Mandy in awed delight. Seeing her companion's matter-of-fact nod, the fascinated college student eagerly blurted out, "Why- What were you doing-" only halt in sudden embarrassment at such a personal question. Hurriedly casting around for something else to ask which wasn't so prying, Mandy tried, "Um, is Africa anything like the Tarzan movies?"

Xander's warm grin at hearing this question made Mandy tingle again all the way down to her toes, especially when he chuckled, "The Cameroon rain forest is a great deal different from any kind of Hollywood back lot. But when you're inside the hot, damp, green dimness of hundred-foot trees growing so closely together they block out the sunlight and leave the ground mostly clear, it's easy to believe any second now, some guy in a leopard-skin loincloth could swing by on a vine."

As they continued down the sidewalk, Xander began to spin even more tales of his travels around the Dark Continent to the entranced girl. It was effortless, given he'd spent a couple of years there after the destruction of Sunnydale. All he had to do now was to make a few necessary edits about his exact purpose back then, since it would've been rather difficult to explain to Mandy why he'd gone there looking for other girls rumored to be stronger and faster than every guy in their villages and neighborhoods. Plus, while recounting his stories, Xander also had to keep in mind not to use the familiar names for him concerning the African countries he'd visited, but to instead speak of what these nations had been called nearly fifty years earlier.

The one-eyed man succeeded well enough in this task, so that when they finally arrived at Mandy's sorority, the young woman reluctantly slipped out of Xander's arm still thrown over her shoulders, as it'd been throughout all their walk together. Smiling at the downcast girl, Xander began to stick out his hand to give her a farewell shake-

Standing motionless there in front of Xander, Mandy now lifted her head to look her escort straight in the eye, all while a very absorbed expression appeared upon her pretty face. This girl's features then firmed as she made her decision, and stepping nearer, Mandy threw both arms around Xander's neck, and the startled man was irrevocably pulled down in to a scorching kiss with the blonde student. His remaining eye bulging with astonishment, Xander froze for a few moments due to being completely flabbergasted by this. Still, when their kiss went on without Mandy showing any signs at all of stopping, Xander mentally shrugged, and he put his strong arms around the young woman while he gallantly kissed her back.

The minor part of Mandy's personality that took pride in being a nice girl was now anxiously protesting her unladylike behavior. Not only was she brazenly acting like what could only be termed a fast woman, but she was cheating on her boyfriend! With a complete stranger, to boot!

However, the remaining portion of the girl busily exploring her fellow participant's mouth told Miss Prim and Proper to basically just go jump into a lake. What she'd sensed most of all tonight, from the funny and mysterious and kind and brawny male clutched in her arms, was how _safe_ he'd made her feel throughout all of their stroll together. As for Greg, her supposed boyfriend- Well, if she hadn't come across Xander earlier, right now she'd be grumpily taking an extra-long bubble bath soak in her en suite bathroom at the sorority, and reaching out towards what she'd previously placed upon the bathtub rim. To be precise, the rubber object normally hidden deep inside a drawer which was discreetly referred to as a 'stress reliever massage aid' that had been shipped to her in a plain brown wrapper.

Miss Prim and Proper instantly shut up in her sheer virtuous outrage, and she went off in an exaggerated huff to read a good book.

Pulling away from kissing Xander, who graciously let go at once, Mandy didn't say anything, but she now gave this awaiting man a very wicked grin. Next, the girl happily seized his nearest arm, immediately turning to tug him after herself while heading towards the near side of the Tri Pi House. Not knowing what else to do, Xander trailed along after in pure bemusement, but he was beginning to suspect how things were going to turn out.

Not that he minded. At _all._

* * *

The Delta House member known to his fraternity brothers as Bluto quickly shambled across the darkened campus grounds. He was feeling a lot better now than a while back, when he and his friends had fled from the Administration Building after leaving a dead horse inside the Dean's office. A couple - eight or ten, say - of downed beers later, from the bar set in the basement of his frat, and most importantly, the chance to brag to his enthralled listeners there about what they'd done had rapidly restored Bluto's ebullient mood. There was _no_ way anyone would ever forget this. Okay, it had to be admitted he and D-Day and Flounder hadn't meant it to happen in the first place, but who cared? Once the story got out - not just around Faber, but everywhere else - nobody would ever bother to remember this minor detail. Instead, Delta House, as represented by one Bluto Blutarsky, had just become _immortal._

Drunkenly sniggering to himself, Bluto paused by a tree to yank a full beer bottle from his jacket pocket. Opening it with his teeth, Bluto spat the metal cap to the ground, and he then guzzled the entire beer at one go. Uttering a sonorous belch, Bluto tossed the empty bottle over his shoulder, ignoring the sound of shattering glass this produced, and while weaving slightly on his feet, the young man stared ahead and upwards at his target for tonight.

From the light in the second-story bedroom, she had to be in there. Slack-jawedly staring at the back of the Tri Pi sorority house a few dozen yards away, Bluto knew that tonight was truly the most special night when he'd finally get to watch what nobody else but him deserved. How could it otherwise be? Getting away with the most incredible prank in college history simply had to lead to the next supreme triumph, when he managed to see Mandy Pepperidge totally starkers. With actual bush, no less.

Instantly putting his burly body to work, Bluto swarmed up the tree in an expert climb. It was done in such an anthropoidal fashion that even the most rock-ribbed Christian fundamentalist witnessing this would've grudgingly acknowledged the theory of evolution might be somewhat correct. At last making it to the proper elevation, Bluto stood upon a handy branch, while holding onto the tree trunk with his left hand. Gazing straight ahead, he was looking into a lit bedroom, with its inside curtains drawn back to reveal-

Mandy Pepperidge stepped into view, wearing nothing but a bra, panties, and stockings with a garter belt, all composed of blinding white cloth. Standing in the room, unaware of her awestruck watcher outside, the young blonde woman began to sensuously caress herself. Stroking her smooth, alabaster skin, this girl's fingers soon enough drifted to her bra, cupping her magnificent breasts constrained by the silky fabric.

At that exact point, Bluto swung around in his position in the tree to silently smirk at an unseen audience behind himself. If anyone else had actually been there to ask him just why he'd done this, Bluto couldn't have explained. It just seemed the thing to do.

Turning his attention once more to the window, Bluto began to drool at seeing how Mandy had now turned in a half circle to present her back to the Peeping Tom in the tree, who then saw how she brought her hands rearwards to casually unhook her bra. Making low, gurgling noises from deep in his throat, the frat brother fixedly watched this piece of lingerie get removed and dropped to the room floor. Shrugging her shoulders in relief, Mandy then put her hands out of sight in front of herself, but from the way her arms were moving, she had to be-

"Turn around, turn around," softly whimpered Bluto. Unfortunately, this didn't happen, but Bluto still got to see Mandy drop her hands to her sides, hook her thumbs inside the waistband of her panties, and for one endless moment, this nearly naked girl stood there, a fleshly statue of absolute female pulchritude.

Bluto didn't give a damn. He was gonna see _pussy._

In his dazed state of erotic euphoria, the young man in the tree unconsciously leaned forward, as if to get nearer, until he was just barely maintaining his grip with his left hand upon the tree trunk. The other hand now went groping for his pants zipper.

In the bedroom, Mandy started to lower her panties.

Out on the tree, Bluto leaned a fraction of an inch further forward, while at the same time he eagerly yanked down to open the zipper.

That was all it took. Under Bluto's left hand, a patch of tree bark broke away from the trunk, causing him to entirely lose his grip and fall forward out of the tree. Too horrified to even despairingly scream during his swift tumble, Bluto's last frantic sight of Mandy was when her also-descending panties just began to reveal the crack of her perfect ass. Right after that, Bluto's entire world went dark in an agonizing explosion of pain and unconsciousness when he landed head-first upon the hard ground.

Hearing through the closed window an extremely loud thump, Mandy abruptly stood up, leaving her panties puddled around her ankles, and she half-twisted her upper torso around with such urgency that her fabulous breasts in reaction to this then wobbled and shook in unison. Staring in sheer confusion at the night's blackness out past the window, Mandy exclaimed, "What _was_ that?"

"A branch must've fallen off a tree out there," blandly offered Xander Harris, leaning against a side wall of the bedroom, well out of the line of sight through the room's window.

Turning back to completely show off her gloriously nude body to the man sharing her bedroom, Mandy frowned as she absently stepped out of her panties. She doubtfully said, "It sounded kind of really loud for something like that."

Xander shrugged, buying himself a moment to put on his face his best deadpan, as he responded, "It must've been a really _big_ branch."

With perfect timing, Xander had shifted his eyebrows while he straight-facedly offered this last absurd comment. During the instant he stressed the word 'big', Xander particularly managed to vigorously wiggle the eyebrow over his eyepatch. This specific article of clothing happened to be the only part of his former attire for tonight which the man was wearing at this exact moment.

As Mandy could very well see, when her gaze dropped to adoringly regard a certain portion of Xander's wholly revealed anatomy. If earlier tonight the young woman had scathingly compared her boyfriend's penis to a limp toothpick, here was a proud, unyielding redwood tree.

Mandy Pepperidge hungrily licked her lips.

* * *

Dean Wormer was _not_ having a good day.

A frantic phone call from the early-morning cleaners hastily brought him to his office, where the demon in a man's form beheld one of the most unusual sights of his entire unearthly existence. A sudden appalled realization had the dean then privately make a quick check of the Administration Building's basement, where he found (in that order), a destroyed illusion spell, a dead minion, and no trace whatsoever of the soul he'd been desperate to collect.

Numbly making his way back to his office, the head of Faber College now found there a very phlegmatic janitor about to remove a half-ton animal presently deep in rigor mortis. Somehow, this was to occur through a room doorway which seemingly this expired equine couldn't possibly fit. Oh, there was also in his office the horse's owner, with this commander of the ROTC troops currently hysterical with grief.

Dean Wormer couldn't move fast enough to escape being seized in an inconsolable hug while Douglas Neidermeyer heavily sobbed upon the front of the exasperated older man's suit. An instant later, the whine of a chainsaw getting ready to work droned throughout the office.

At the same time across the campus, a very surly group of young women dressed in their pajamas and robes and nightgowns sat down together at the Tri Pi's breakfast table. Every one of these grouchy ladies sipped at badly-needed cups of coffee, with their identical puffy eyes and disheveled hair confirming that none of them had caught a single wink of sleep last night after their slumber party in the downstairs front room of the sorority. Not when they'd all had to listen to the ecstatic shrieks of delight coming from Mandy's bedroom directly overhead, which lasted for _hours._

Upstairs in the bed, as he cuddled the still-dozing cheerleader presently having a very happy smile upon her slumbering face, Xander Harris was having a _great _day.


	8. Chapter 8

Larry Kroger, known to his Delta housemates as 'Pinto' due to the enduring result of a very embarrassing childhood incident, was perched on the side of his bed while absently holding in both hands a removed brassierie that had both cups stuffed full of what looked like an entire roll of toilet paper. This young man's attention was at the moment completely distracted by observing in purest amazement how in floating in the air in front of himself, his good and bad sides (in the overused cliché of an angel and a devil) were in the middle of an extremely heated debate on what exactly to do about his bare-breasted, out-cold date lying flat on her back behind him in the bed.

Then, things got _really_ strange.

Appearing out of thin air by the arguing pair of imaginary manifestations that were both in each others' faces and screaming at the tops of their lungs, another guy stood there on an unseen floor, exasperatedly shaking his head. This irritated action brought the newcomer's face fully into view, which finished convincing Larry he'd finally lost all his marbles. Why else would he have done something so crazy like making up the visit of the scariest ever Delta brother right now? But, no, there he was, looking really pissed off as Silver glared from his remaining eye at the other two unreal guys, who hadn't even noticed him.

Oddest of all was how the six-inch tall Silver was dressed. Instead of his normal everyday wear of jeans and a flannel shirt, this man was now clad in one of those Middle Age suits of armor from school history class, some kind of ringed mail coat or robe belted at the waist. Hanging from the belt was a long, scabbarded sword, which was just _one_ of the weapons currently being borne by Silver. Numbly, Larry observed a huge double-bladed axe attached to Silver's back, a foot-long dagger dangling from the belt on the opposite side from the sword, and what looked like a dozen more throwing knives nestled in their sheaths on the leather strap that diagonally crossed Silver's chest.

The college freshman was jolted out of his daze by the sudden act now performed by Silver, who'd evidently had more than enough. Purposefully stepping forward, the one-eyed man reached out with blinding speed to grab Devil-Larry by the shoulders of his red costume. Yanking his surprised adversary in a half circle to face him, Silver next brought up his right knee in a blur of motion, driving this directly with tremendous force into the evil spirit's groin.

Larry abruptly felt his eyes water.

Looking down in utter contempt at the contorted body of the devil just barely on his feet as he clutched himself in sheer agony, Silver leaned forward to place the palm of his hand flat atop Devil-Larry's head, and he shoved, hard. Tumbling backwards, the make-believe fiend abruptly vanished from sight.

"Bless you, my son!" sonorously declared Angel-Larry, who only managed to say this right before a very powerful right cross then savagely punched out the other manifestation of a teenager's personality into deepest unconsciousness. Dropping straight down to the unseen floor, the knocked-out angel also instantaneously disappeared from existence.

Idly shaking his hand that had been a fist a moment ago, Silver muttered under his breath, "Sanctimonious jerk." This man next sat down in mid-air in the most relaxed manner possible, reached inside his mailed robe, and he at once pulled out from there what looked like a…_Twinkie?_

Stuffing the small yellow cake into his mouth, Silver blissfully chomped away at his snack, until he glanced around to find himself staring directly into Larry's astonished face. Casually waving, Silver mumbled through his delicious mouthful, "Hiya, kid."

"Uhhh…," gurgled Larry, totally convinced this was the point when the men in white coats would come bursting into the room, instantly wrap him into a straightjacket, and then haul him straight off to the loony bin. What made it even more unfair that he hadn't even had sex! He was gonna die a virgin, no question about it…

As if he'd read Larry's mind, Silver peered past him at the pretty girl without her top lying limply in the bed, who'd seriously misjudged her tolerance for alcohol a few minutes before. Glancing back at Larry, Silver wasn't showing any signs of anger or disappointment or disgust over the possibly serious situation the younger man had just found himself in, without intending this at all. Instead, the older Delta calmly asked, "So, what're you going to do now?"

"I don't _know!_" groaned Larry. Seeing Silver's right eyebrow go up a fraction at hearing this, Larry turned brick-red, to then sheepishly mumble, "Uh, I mean, I know what I should do! But, uh, even if you consider me a total asshole about it, I still can't stop thinking of something else! Yeah, it's nasty and bad and perfectly wrong, and I'm going to hell for it-"

"Hey, hey!" interjected Silver, holding a palm out to emphasize his next words. "Listen, first of all, there's nothing you can say that'll possibly shock me. I'm not really here, see? Not Xander Harris, Faber College attendee, Delta House fraternity member. You called me up, someone you think might know what to do, when the other parts of your brain couldn't help you figure out your options. So, just go along with the whole weirdness happening tonight. I'm an impartial observer, but if you really want me to, I'll be willing to give you some advice. However, it's your choice whether to pay attention to me or not. You fine with that?"

Larry hastily nodded, as he watched Silver cross his arms over his chest and tilt his head to direct his remaining bright eye directly into the other Delta's wondering gaze. Portentously clearing his throat, Silver started with, "Look, I've _been_ there, okay? One day, girls are nothing but cooties magnets, and the next week at junior high, you notice they've got curves which weren't there before, and you can't figure what the hell to do now. Pulling their pigtails doesn't seem right anymore, but when you try to be nice to them, they just laugh at you. Which hurts worse than any fistfight you've ever been in, and that's the honest truth."

Totally engrossed, Larry bobbed his head in utter agreement. Smirking at his intent listener, Silver continued, "What makes it even worse is you don't ever stop feeling like nothing but a cock with ears, ready to explode at the slightest opportunity. Thinking about sex, dreaming about sex, wondering about sex - is it really as good as it's bragged about by the older guys? Who even if you suspect they're lying about ninety-nine-plus percent of their own experiences, you sure want to give it a try, no matter what."

Pausing to nostalgically grin to himself, Silver happily revealed, "I hit the jackpot with my first real girlfriend. She was the head cheerleader at my high school, built like Sophia Loren, and best of all, even though she still considered me a complete idiot, Cordy let me get as far as second base with her lots of times in the janitor's closet."

Larry was surprised to see Silver's face turn sad for a moment. This minor mystery was soon cleared up when the one-eyed man sighed, "We broke up soon after that. It was totally my fault, and I've never stopped feeling stupid about it."

Shaking his head, Silver went on, with his mood beginning to improve as he spoke, "Well, that was my first girlfriend, but my first _time_ was with someone else really special. Her name was Faith."

A look of awed respect appeared upon Silver's features. "Faith, now, she's one of a kind. A girl from the wrong side of the tracks- Nah, she once told me about growing up in her neighborhood, the guys there, they'd have stolen the tracks and sold 'em to the highest bidder. That turned her into one tough lady, so when she hit my hometown, I wasn't prepared for what happened next. It ended with her pulling me into her motel room, showing me what was what, and when it was all over, she promptly threw me out of her room and slammed the door shut in my face. Oh, by the way, at the time, I was totally naked except for my boxers and holding the rest of my clothes in my hands."

Letting out an incredulous giggle, Larry was quickly joined by Silver in their shared laughter. Soon enough, the man with the eyepatch had his mood change again into unconditional seriousness. Absorbedly listening, Larry heard, "Things changed after that - some good, but a lot of it bad. In the middle of it all, I learned something which made me feel really lousy."

Guiltily eyeing the curious freshman, Silver at last confessed, "My only defense is that I honestly thought she was older. Unfortunately, when we did it, I was seventeen, and she was fifteen."

Looking away in their conversation, Silver uncomfortably muttered, "I genuinely wanted to apologize to Faith, but, um, we weren't talking. She was in the hospital for a while, and then she left town. After that, when Faith got back, everyone was just too busy. It took for a few years to pass, when me and Faith and some of our other friends were in our new home, talking about stuff, and I finally worked up the courage to tell her I was sorry."

Returning his gaze to Larry, Silver startled the other Delta by developing a very wry smile upon his scarred features. "You want to know what Faith said to me in return?"

Larry automatically nodded.

"Word for word, it went like this: 'Don't be such a fuckin' idiot, Xan.'"

Silver sardonically snorted at how Larry's jaw dropped at hearing that surprising and truly obscene statement. In his now rather acerbic mood, Silver explained, "She tore into me after that, making it absolutely clear back then, it'd been _her_ decision to take me to her bed. Yeah, Faith knew I'd been sniffing after her, just like virtually every other guy she'd met. What was most important to her, though, is that she called the shots on whether or not to invite me into her motel room. She might have not been old enough to legally do this, but, hey, like she gave the slightest damn about it. Faith wasn't all that impressed on how the law should've been taking care of her for the last fifteen years. Nope, the only person who'd be looking out for Faith was Faith herself, and anyone else who thought differently should eat shit and die. Then, she got _really_ nasty, starting off with such a profane rant it made everyone's ears bleed."

Noticing Larry's glazed stare over what he'd just heard, Silver gleefully added something even more shocking. "Right in the middle of her tirade, Faith clammed up, and then she gave me one of the most evil looks I've ever received in my life. She walked over to me, shoved her hand down the front of my pants, and while holding onto what was in there, she announced to the whole room that if I still believed I'd fucked up, well, she'd teach me different. We were gonna do it on her terms again, and when I was showing her I'd finally learned something since last time, I'd damn well also better figure out I had nothing to be sorry for. Or else. A second later, she dragged me up to her bedroom, where I was the first guy to enter since she broke up with her last boyfriend."

A wide grin then split Silver's face, as he chuckled at his dazed listener. "Well, as you can see, I survived, and things turned out great with me and Faith. She's with someone else now, but we all consider each other to be family." Nodding with quiet satisfaction, the older man glanced again at the room's bed, where the sleeping girl there hadn't stirred at all throughout the entire story. Turning back to solemnly regard a bewildered Larry, Silver remarked in his steady tone, "Okay, you heard what I said. Now, it's up to you to decide what to do. Good luck with that, Pinto."

Getting to his feet in mid-air, Silver paused when the astonished younger man spluttered, "Wha- _Wait!_ You're not going to leave me in the lurch here?"

"I told you," Silver shrugged, as he began to fade away. "I'm not really in this room, talking to you. You just needed some time to figure out how to deal with everything. That's what adults do, which is kinda the whole reason kids leave their homes and go away to colleges and universities, to learn how to be one of the grown-ups. Sooner or later, you gotta take on what life throws at you, and personally, I think you're gonna be okay on this. Just try to do what's right, not what's easy, which is a pretty good rule for yourself."

The manifestation was now almost completely gone, with only a dim outline of Silver smiling at Larry. Who himself burst out with one last question, out of sheer unthinking curiosity: "Hold on! Just _why_ are - were - you dressed up like, like, a knight or someone from medieval times?"

A shadowy form glanced down at his armored form bearing a multiplicity of weapons, only to give another, more massive shrug as he then looked up at Larry. In his faint voice, Silver cheerfully said, "Beats me, kiddo. Most of the time, back home, I'm just a big pussycat around my girls, completely peaceful and diplomatic at all times. It's just that every now and then, when things turn rowdy, nobody really believes me when I tell 'em to just knock it off and quit making trouble for us." At the very end of this final comment, Silver totally vanished, leaving behind only the merest flicker of a feral grin showing off a mouth full of sharp fangs, and a glowing greenish/yellow spark where a man's sole eye had winked at Larry.

For the next few moments, the only conscious person in the room stared blankly ahead while remaining sitting upon the bed. At length becoming aware of the soft breathing of his date in her drunken stupor, Larry turned to regard the half-dressed young girl lying next to himself while completely at his mercy, and he then glumly sighed.

* * *

Closing his room door, Larry Kroger frantically glanced around at the chaos in the Delta House corridor, with numerous frat brothers and their dates celebrating tonight's toga party. Squeezing down the hallway past people having the time of their lives while dressed in numerous eccentric attempts at some kind of Roman attire, the worried freshman searched for- There he was!

Xander Harris was leaning against a wall, enjoying his Coke that was taking the edge off a major thirst created by enthusiastically joining in the big _Shout_ number down in the living room a few minutes ago. And people back home said he couldn't dance! Well, what did they know, anyway? He'd at last figured out what the problem was in the first place, that he just didn't feel comfortable with contemporary moves. But put him back fifty years in the past, and he could get down and boogie with the best of them-

Someone standing behind him urgently tapped Xander upon his shoulder. Turning around in mild surprise, the one-eyed man saw there another guy dressed in a toga, the one who was played by Tom Hulce in the movie _Animal House._ He looked really nervous, which puzzled the New Council member. Nevertheless, Xander cheerfully bellowed over the tremendous uproar of intermixed music and shouting conversations which were presently at a level of noise sufficient to have the building's inner walls beginning to flex in rhythm, "Hey, Pinto! Are you having fun?"

Instead of replying right away, Pinto leaned forward nearly into Xander's face, while attempting the nearly impossible feat of whispering loudly. All Xander managed to get from him was, "My room…need your help…come with me?"

The man known by the Delta brothers as Silver rubbed at his face, presumably to wipe off a stray drop of accidental spit, but in reality to buy some time while trying to remember what exactly had been going on in the movie around now. They'd done the dance number performed by Otis Day and the Knights, but come to think of it, Pinto hadn't been around since then. This kid had vanished with his date to… Oh. Yeah, _that_ scene where Pinto had been trying to get laid and it'd turned into a complete disaster. With a superhuman effort, Xander managed to not burst out laughing at the panicky Delta looking like he'd just been told God was gonna get him, and it wasn't gonna be pretty. Smoothing his face into a more amiable expression, Xander genially nodded, and he followed after the younger man scurrying ahead.

Closing the door behind him, which thankfully cut down the outside noise, a very deadpan Xander eyed the young girl sleeping in the bed there, with a bedsheet virtuously laid over her ripe body, leaving exposed only her placid face. Slooooowly turning to examine a sweating Pinto at the room's side, who appeared to be about to entirely melt to a puddle on the floor in his absolute mortification any second now, Xander cleared his throat, and he then inquired, "So, you wanna borrow a condom off me?"

"NO!" yelped a horrified Pinto, whose next words tumbled from out of his mouth: "I didn't- We didn't do anything! She just had too much to drink! I swear-!"

Feeling he'd had quite enough fun for tonight in torturing his Delta frat brother, Xander interrupted this babble by stepping over to Pinto and laying a reassuring hand on the kid's shoulder while soothingly saying, "Hey, it's all right. You're a good guy, Larry, and that girl there, she'd have been absolutely safe with you, like you just proved. But, why exactly am _I_ here?"

Looking as if he'd just been told the governor had called at the very last minute and his electric-chair execution was now commuted, a truly relieved Larry explained, "I don't want Clorette - that's her name - in trouble, so I have to get her back to her house right away without anyone noticing. Can you help me sneak her out of here?"

"Not a chance," calmly replied Xander. Seeing Larry's immediate betrayed expression, the older man sniggered, to then patiently make clear to this less-experienced person in such monkey business like the current absurd situation: "Kiddo, we're in Delta. We try to do this undercover, the whole house will instantly catch us at it. Nope, here's the plan…"

* * *

Twenty minutes later, a delighted crowd was eagerly making way for Pinto as he marched around the main downstairs living room. Staring straight ahead, this Delta member was concentrating on three things: keeping a stern expression upon his face, trying not to trip in his bare feet over any discarded beer bottle lying on the floor, and most important of all, making sure he didn't drop his date. At this exact moment, Pinto was striding along while holding onto Clorette DePasto by her ankles. The rest of the slumbering young woman (who'd caught him shoplifting yesterday and demanded he invite her to a college party as her price for not turning him him) was also being carried by strong hands held under the backs of her shoulders. Following along after, Xander was doing his own job of ensuring Clorette's limp body kept moving through the living room during her horizontal journey several feet above the floor.

Xander also continued to boomingly declaim to the watching room in his most resonant voice, as he'd done ever since coming down the stairs, "Isis, Hathor, Meretseger, Nephthys, Renenutet, shower your blessings on this daughter of the Nile! Bes, Khnemu, Reshep, Thoth, protect the one who wanders in the dark! Satet, Tefnut, Sekhmet, Tauret, have mercy on our beloved queen, she who left too soon Egypt's throne!"

Quickly getting into the spirit of things, the Knights at the far end of the room started a soulful performance of _St. James Infirmary Blues,_ with the one-eyed man continuing to call over the band's music the names of every other beneficial Egyptian deity he could possibly remember, with the exception of Ma'at. Xander didn't really think this goddess of order and truth would be in any way amused by what was happening now.

Not when he and Pinto had earlier stripped down solely to their pants, and once the younger man had bundled together his shirt, jacket, socks and shoes and dropped these out the back window, he'd turned around to see Silver slicing up his pillowcases with a big knife that had seemingly come out of nowhere. An unspoken protest dying on his lips, Pinto had instead witnessed in sheer fascination how Silver then rapidly fashioned out of the rags two white headdresses. Carefully placing onto his head the elaborate cloth covering, Silver next did this for Pinto, too. Taking a step back to eye the bewildered freshman, Silver thoughtfully rubbed his chin, to then muse, "We need some paint or ink - you got any, Pinto?"

"Uh," Larry managed, waving an uncertain hand towards his room closet. "There's stuff in there left over from the last guy who lived here. I think he was an art major-"

"Perfect!" announced Silver, making a beeline for the closet, while calling over his shoulder, "Get into the bathroom, and completely soak a towel."

This was ordered so commandingly that Pinto didn't even ask any questions. Though, five minutes later, when he doubtfully peered down to regard the strange designs just painted in watercolors on his flinching chest, the other male _had_ to say, "What the hell are those?"

"Hieroglyphs," absently answered Silver as he now drew an ornate cross with a looped top on his own chest.

Pinto stood there blinking incomprehensively for several moments, until he choked out, "Where did-"

"Long story," briskly interrupted Silver who was now finished and put the brush down on top of a drawer. With another conjurer's gesture, the immense knive again appeared, and while gripping it, Silver advanced towards the bed and its still-slumbering occupant, a definite maniac gleam in his remaining eye. Looming up over the helpless maiden covered only with a thin bedsheet, he brandished his deadly weapon, and Silver went on to cackle evilly, "Now for the last part!"

It all wound up with one of Delta House's infamous toga parties having during this the surprise appearance of two Egyptian priests carrying in solemn procession the body of a young woman tightly wrapped in white bandages. The female mummy had only her face exposed, with these peaceful features daubed with tiny images of unfamiliar beasts and other pictures, accompanied by her shut eyes being outlined in dark kohl. All this resulted in making the girl totally unrecognizable. Not that any of the onlookers particularly cared, with all these people there joyfully accepting the whole thing as just another example of Delta's famed craziness.

In fact, the entire crowd was really sorry to see the two guys and their willing accomplice leave after pulling off a truly memorable gag, hoisting their beers in unison and sending an exuberant cheer after the departing trio disappearing into the rear of the house, with the Knights shifting into a snappy farewell rendition of _When The Saints Go Marching In._

A couple of minutes afterwards, both Larry and Xander could still hear this jaunty music from their present position at the back of the Delta House garage. Though, they pretty much ignored it, being busy with other things. Larry had yanked off and tossed to the ground his headdress, and he quickly put on the rest of his clothes collected after finding them where they'd landed in the backyard. Xander had just as rapidly stripped off the remnants of the bedsheet off Clorette, who was now beginning to stir. Gently lowering the girl to the ground, Xander gathered the slashed rags and he dropped them into the shopping cart they'd found, which should adequately provide a cushion for this vehicle's passenger during the trip back to her home. Bending down once more to pick her up, Xander carefully put Clorette into the cart, and the girl only sleepily murmured at this action, before snuggling deeper into the soft rags.

Without any prompting, Larry handed Xander the soaked towel he'd been told to get and which had also been tossed out the back window. The older man then vigorously scrubbed Clorette's face with this, washing off the hieroglyphs and eyeliner he'd earlier painted there, and also starting the process of finally waking her up. Blearily opening her eyes, the girl frowned down at her dress once more fully covering herself, which had been expertly restored by an unflustered Xander right before he'd turned her into an Egyptian mummy. Lifting her befuddled gaze to see both her date and some strange half-naked guy with a really goofy hat standing there and looking back at her, the young woman muzzily asked, "Did I have a good time?"

"Pretty much, I guess," chuckled Xander. Beginning to shiver in the chilly night air as every bit of his exposed skin developed goosebumps, he affably waved a hand in a get-going gesture. "Larry here behaved like a perfect gentleman, and I'd trust him with any of my own girls. Clorette, nice to meet you, and Pinto, one last word of advice: just leave her on the doorstep, ring the doorbell, and take off right away. Nobody there will buy anything you say, and it's been such a great party that it'd be a real shame to have it spoiled by you being murdered by her furious dad. Okay, kids, scram."

Giving Silver a rather sickly smile, Pinto nodded once. However, as Xander turned to return to Delta House and the party, he was stopped by the younger man hesitantly calling after him, "Uh, Silver- If you still know her, the next time you talk to Faith, could you pass along from me that I think she's really amazing?"

Halting dead in his tracks, a few moments later Xander swung back around to gape at where Larry had already moved off, determinedly pushing ahead the shopping cart with its feminine occupant drunkenly chortling to herself. Staring after the other Delta frat brother soon disappearing into the darkness, Xander shook his head in pure disbelief, until a concerned expression abruptly appeared upon the one-eyed man's countenance.

A quick revisit to Pinto's bedroom ended with Xander suspiciously sniffing at the half-empty Coke bottle he'd left there after first entering the room at the younger man's behest earlier. Lifting up the bottle with its contents sloshing around in there to glower at close range the dark liquid inside, which still looked and smelled like a perfectly ordinary soft drink, Xander quickly banished from his mind any intention of actually drinking it and any other Coke in the house. It didn't matter at all that he'd brought along his own stock for the party and it'd been tightly sealed when the bottle was opened and then partly consumed, without seemingly any ill effects whatsoever from the latter.

A very glum Xander was certain that his Delta brothers had truly enjoyed the challenge of somehow spiking his drink tonight. Because, he was positively, absolutely, completely, one hundred percent _sure _that he'd never mentioned Faith to anyone here.

Gingerly replacing the Coke back onto the top of the drawer next to a still-dripping brush, Xander Harris shrugged in his total bafflement, and he then spoke the two words which pretty much summed it all up: "Weird night."


	9. Chapter 9

"Why are you even _here?_" snarled Dean Wormer towards the man with an eyepatch.

*Damn good question,* Xander Harris thought, all while keeping a carefully blank expression upon his scarred features. However, when the incensed administrator of Faber College continued his hostile harangue concerning everyone else gathered together in his office today, it soon became clear to a dimensional traveler that this other man had meant something entirely different from what Xander was now pondering.

In spite of it all, after several months since he'd been shanghaied into the _Animal House_ movie by one of those interfering mystical dickwads known more formally as the Powers That Be, Xander wasn't the slightest bit closer to figuring out what exactly was his supposed purpose in this place. Yeah, unlike what'd been presented in the film he'd seen and enjoyed back in his home dimension, there was without a doubt something weird going on here behind the scenes, and it definitely involved the supernatural. He'd already encountered actual magic, not to mention real-life demons running around and covertly threatening the other unaware humans at this school in which Xander was supposed to be enrolled while in the guise of an ordinary college student.

Not to mention the New Council member still hadn't come across anyone around the campus who might specifically fit the hints the Prick That Bumbled had dropped, pertaining to the guy who must be protected and the girl who must be saved. Xander was reasonably confident this latter clue didn't apply to a certain college cheerleader, since all he'd done so far concerning an elated Mandy Pepperidge was to rectify that girl's former ignorance about multiple orgasms.

With this accomplishment, while admirable, still being in no way comparable to something like taking Sauron's ring to Mount Doom, this Delta House fraternity brother seriously doubted any fantasy author would ever write a thousand-page trilogy about _that._ Though, Mandy had been walking around with a very wide grin on her pretty face nowadays-

"Day and Harris!" Dean Wormer now bellowed, with the sound of his own yelled name instantly bringing Xander's attention back to the office. Critically eyeing the older man shouting at both himself and a sullen D-Day at his side, Xander mentally ranked the following infuriated lecture at, oh, maybe an eight-point-five on the Snyder Scale. Not bad, and the veins throbbing at Wormer's temples were a nice touch, but this still didn't compare to an entire bald head turing pure scarlet in a principal's fury, which the former high-school student had happily witnessed numerous times back in Sunnydale. Though, an interested Xander finally learned just why he'd been summoned here today with his Delta buddies.

Apparently, he shared with D-Day the unbelievable achievement of maintaining for the entire past semester a grade point average of absolute zero. Well, even if the dean plainly didn't think so, it was pretty impressive, and all he'd had to do was to never even bother to attend any of his courses, much less take the exams there handed out by the class teachers. Xander idly wondered if D-Day had done the exact same thing. Glancing out of the corner of his remaining eye towards that specific younger man grumpily slouching in his leather jacket in their line abreast in front of the room desk, Xander looked past his Delta brother to instead see someone who at this moment appeared to not be coping very well with being hauled into the dean's office today.

In fact, Flounder looked totally miserable as he stood there, what with his pasty face, big beads of perspiration beginning to trickle down his forehead, and also, he was beginning to hiccup-

Uh-oh. Xander had just remembered a certain scene from the movie he was inside, and as Dean Wormer also discerned there was something wrong about one of his victims, the Sunnydale native began to imperceptibly edge backwards from the other guys, sliding his feet along the floor. Nobody else in the office noticed this, as they were all distracted by the dean getting right into Flounder's face and demanding at the top of his lungs what was going on, and this young man better talk, right now!

Instantly deciding the best strategy was to move away as fast as possible in order to get out of range, Xander smartly stepped back. This was done just in time for him to wince at what happened next. Because unlike the scene in the movie, nobody cut away at the exact moment when as a consequence of his shaky nerves and the six-pack of beer he'd earlier chugged, the pudgy Delta known as Flounder then threw up all over Dean Wormer in an remarkable display of dead-on-target projectile vomiting.

* * *

A couple of very hectic minutes later, Xander was walking through the campus, all while deeply brooding (however much he disliked acting the same way as a certain gone-and-not-missed-at-all vampire). The one-eyed man had broken away from the other Deltas just a moment ago, who were themselves heading back to the fraternity. None of this small group of students had noticed Silver was no longer with them, being instead busy in both congratulating a very stunned Flounder over what he'd just done against a detested authority figure, and also uneasily trying to deal with the fact as a result of everything today, each and every one of them had just been expelled from Faber College.

Strange as it might seem, getting thrown out of school right now wasn't all that bothersome to Xander. Not when he'd recently witnessed something truly astonishing, what had never happened to him before in his entire life. True, after years of battling supernatural wickedness, this New Council member had thought he'd pretty much seen everything when attacking demons and their like with various substances those evil creatures couldn't bear. Holy water for vampires, silver for werewolves, etc., etc… But what he'd watched a few minutes ago had been just plain _weird._

Xander Harris had never known you could detect somebody being possessed when they'd just had a Technicolor yawn performed directly on them, coating every square inch of their body. It wasn't exactly anything the Scooby Gang doing library research for the latest apocalypse had come across in Giles' extremely thick and dusty tomes dealing with demonic lore. Nor had the Watcher ever actually gotten around to explaining that same bizarre effect. It might've been for the best, considering how a certain blonde was already sensitive about her weight, and the constant school rumors nastily suggesting the possibility of bulimia for Buffy Summers. If Giles back then had accidentally blundered by mentioning the odd results of what was properly known as emesis upon mentally controlled persons, this Englishman's Slayer would've surely suggested in the rudest manner possible that _he _was gonna do it first.

Shuddering, Xander remembered once more what he'd witnessed in the office on the third floor of the Administration Building, with this structure speedily dwindling behind himself as he continued walking. The other guys there, they might've been horrified at seeing Flounder blowing chunks all over Dean Wormer, but Xander was certain something more hideous had revealed itself then. Beginning to grow actually angry, Xander growled out loud to nobody in particular, "Dammit, dude, you should've figured it out sooner! It wasn't a case of that guy turning out to be another little tin god school tyrant like Snyder, oh, no! You've got something worse here, a Mayor-type situation!"

Shaking his head in disgust, Xander kept inattentively striding along, never noticing when he left the campus and entered the small town of Faber. He was more occupied with further berating himself, "Remember that demon in the basement back there? He mentioned it'd been months since they took over the place, waiting for the soul which was gonna show up! This isn't Sunnydale, with people managing to ignore anything strange! Somebody had to tell the janitors and other people to leave the basement alone, with the glamour spell making sure of this. What was his name- the big cheese, Mr. Evil Overlord with the stupid title- Oh, yeah, Grazlar the Mighty. _He's_ gotta be whoever took over the dean."

Coming to a dead stop in the alley he'd been unthinkingly passing through, Xander grimaced in utter dismay. This was most decidedly not of the good. The New Council member was perfectly okay with the physical stuff battling against nighttime monsters over the years: see demon, kill demon, party with the Slayer(s), repeat. Just like it'd been ever since a teenage boy in a California high school library had eavesdropped onto a stuffy British guy and one very sexy girl.

Unfortunately, things had advanced well past that. It'd turned into magic stuff, and as Xander dolefully reminded himself, he still had a tendency to have magic become positively wonky around Willow Rosenberg's bestest bud. Only the most powerful witch in the world could successfully cast spells upon him, and trying on his own anything that took more than the least little mystical effort, such as breaking the glamour spell, could have consequences ranging from somewhat amusing to actually dire. Giving the back of his skull a rueful rub, Xander meditatively grumbled, "It'd be over right away if I could just pass on to the dean what's in my head that deals with unwanted guests. Wil's mojo got rid of Trooper easy enough, but there's nothing I can come up with on my own to drive off that gatecrasher in Wormer's brain."

At that precise moment, Xander's face turned bleak, with his thoughts now taking a very sinister tone. A Sunnydale survivor's Spidey sense was presently going off at full blast. Something big was coming, and it didn't feel good for anyone in town or gown. That meant, if necessary, he might have to do something…extreme to permanently solve the Dean Wormer problem. No matter how much Xander currently preferred otherwise. Still, ever since his hometown's disappearance off the face of the earth, the one-eyed man in the alley had reluctantly done things like that in order to save innocents at risk.

He'd done _worse._

Unexpectedly, Xander was jerked out of his grim contemplation due to the awful sounds suddenly drifting from further up the alley. These were a gruesome combination of heavy objects thudding into human flesh, and accompanying moans of purest agony. Staring in bewilderment at the back of what looked like a motel, Xander also heard from one specific window, a familiar, gloating voice saying, "Hit the bastard harder! I want his face to look like chopped liver, so Mandy will know better than to ever meet this Delta asshole ever again!"

A few moments later, just as Greg Marmalard was gleefully watching the biggest guys in Omega House kicking in Eric Stratton's ribs, the motel room door crashed open. Jerking his head around to stare in disbelief at who was now standing in the open doorway, it took Greg only a fraction of a second to decide to immediately leave the premises by jumping out the rear window. Despite taking the bug screen and curtains along with him, Greg hit the ground running, desperately glad to get out of there. Given the savage expression shown on Xander Harris' face, the cowardly Faber senior would've eagerly dived through a shut window, glass and all, to escape from what was sure to happen back in the room.

Indeed, the confused other Omegas left behind in the motel room were now listening to someone very calmly saying, as if to himself, "They're humans, you can't kill them just for this. On second thought, they look like jocks, which means they're used to pain. So, it could be said you're simply doing them a favor by introducing them to a whole new level of suffering, which will stand them in good stead during their future athletic endeavors. After they've learned to walk again six months from now, of course."

Giving the paling Omegas his most evil smirk, Xander cracked his knuckles, and he genially asked, "Okay, who's first?"

* * *

The raucous discussion at the top of everybody's lungs in the downstairs living room of the stripped-bare Delta House abruptly shushed in their absolute shock when Silver walked into the place carrying over one shoulder a seriously beaten-up young man having the house nickname of Otter. Gently laying down his groaning burden onto the sole remaining piece of furniture in the room, a couch against the far wall, Xander then stepped back, leaving the other anxious guys to instantly cluster around Eric now holding a motel towel against his bleeding forehead. Watching in forbidding silence as the injured Delta brother explained everything, Xander was inwardly occupied in going over again the strategy he'd come up with on the way here.

Obviously, Grazlar the Mighty Moron was going to make his big move soon during the homecoming parade. It couldn't be otherwise, not when it was right there on the very first page of the Evil Overlord's Handbook, all done in ornately-decorated capital letters: The Grand Culmination Of Your Ceremony To _ (fill in the blank) Must Take Place With the Maximum Possible Audience.*

*Even if you have to hand out free tickets in order to pack solid the rear seats.

Seemingly not paying any attention to the enraged brothers listening to one of the most idiotic and yet hilarious rabble-rousing speeches ever given, Xander was in reality biding his time, waiting for the proper moment. There was no chance he could successfully go up all by himself against what Buffy would surely call in her usual name-mangling manner "Grisly the Minnow." However…any second now, the entire Delta House was going to want to seek revenge in the worse possible way, and all that'd be needed was for someone to point them in the proper chaotic direction.

Sure enough, right after the fraternity students had reached their maximum level of fury, a tall figure stepped forward in front of the crowd. Attracting the awareness of all there by this, everyone became quiet, expectedly watching Silver clearly about to say something. Looking around with a glittering eye, the scariest Delta brother now commandingly spoke: "Gentlemen, I have…a cunning plan."


	10. Chapter 10

Halfway through the night before Homecoming, Xander Harris was walking back to the Delta House, shifting his carried burden from one arm to the other whenever the strain upon these aching limbs became too much to bear. *This better be worth it,* the one-eyed man mentally grumbled to himself. *It woulda gone a lot faster and with much less work if I could've used power tools instead of just a saw. The way things went, the noise wouldn't have even been noticed by the rest of the campus, what with them busy getting ready for the big parade tomorrow.*

A very evil smile appeared on Xander's face, when he thought about the wonderful chaos that'd happen during the town festivities. All the guys at Delta had enthusiastically agreed to his proposal based on what Xander could remember from the grand finale of the _Animal House_ movie. After they'd received their specific tasks, virtually the whole house had gleefully scattered to get to work on Xander's instructions. As for himself, while collecting what hand tools he could find from the fraternity's garage during also passing onto Bluto and D-Day some last-minute suggestions for modifying the Deathmobile, the man known to his college brothers as Silver went off to carry out his own sinister purpose.

Musing over the fact that a simple sight gag from one of his favorite film comedies had turned out to be possibly much more important than he'd thought, Xander still maintained a keen situational awareness of his entire surroundings. This meant he was immediately able to duck into a concealing patch of evergreen bushes when Xander saw movement ahead on the college grounds. Kneeling down in the shrubbery, the New Council member noiselessly placed his heavy burden on the leafy soil there, and he patiently waited in his crouching positive for whoever was out there to pass without noticing him. An instant later, this plan went completely to hell due to the downwind breeze carrying a most unwelcome familiar message to Xander's experienced nose:

_Demon._

His hands promptly pulling out a set of matching combat knives brought from the town's pawnshop, Xander prepared to spring into deadly action, only to freeze before actually moving, his attention caught by what one of the demons said when the whole group stopped by his hiding place. Listening intently, the human heard from what sounded like the leader of their unholy band as this creature snarled, "Listen, you scum, and this time pay attention instead of playing grab-ass! Grazlar said-"

"The Mighty," interjected another demon, in an actually superior tone.

"What?" came blurting out in astonishment from the first demon, whom Xander had mentally tagged as 'Boss.'

"Grazlar the Mighty. You should always refer to our glorious leader by his full, hard-won title," insufferably explained the second demon, rewarded for its admonishment by their eavesdropper naming this self-righteous creature as 'Suck-Up.'

Indeed, an infuriated growl was uttered by Boss, who yet went on to say with barely-restrained fury, "Fine, Grazlar the Mighty! Do you want to hear what he told me, or not?"

A truly petulant aside was whined under his breath by Suck-Up that Xander and the rest of the listeners still caught, "I just think you should show him the proper respect that he deserves, plus it makes him really cranky and he takes it out on us when people forget-"

"Shaddap!" barked Boss, as Xander rolled his eye in reluctant agreement. Breathing hard, the main demon gritted, "Like I was saying, Grazlar…"

The entire night stilled.

"…the Mighty," continued a very fed-up Boss, as Xander in the bushes felt an genuine flicker of sympathy for somebody he just _knew_ was presently directing a killer glare towards a smug subordinate. This resulted in Xander missing the next few words, only to have his blood instantly turn cold at what came next.

"…so we've got to do the virgin sacrifice without anyone making a mistake! The seer told our master it'll take place tonight and not only that, exactly where we can find them. We get in there, catch the humans, and then cut their throats, just like you've practiced before on the rest of us who screwed up their own jobs! Trust me, anybody who bungles their responsibility tonight is gonna envy _those_ punished jerks, after Grazlar the Absolute, Total, Supreme, and Really Pissed-Off gets through with them! Now, move out!"

A few moments later, when the sound of footsteps had died away, a man with a terrible look on his scarred face smoothly came out of the bushes. The glitter of starlight off the edges of his razor-sharp blades matched the icy gleam in Xander's single eye, as he headed after those who would learn only too late that the Grim Reaper himself was stalking them.

High above in the sky, some night bird such as an owl skimming through the air might have possibly glanced down, merely to see something so uninteresting as a line of earthbound people walking in single-file along the deserted school pathways well after midnight. It was only when this group passed through darker patches of gloom cast by trees and faculty buildings that another, independently-moving black fragment of shadow closed in onto the rearmost follower. When the line of walkers came out into the dim moonlight, there was always one less of their company.

In his mood of sheer murder, Xander barely noted that contrary to what had happened a while back in the Administration Building basement, the corpses of the demons he was silently dispatching turned into the usual goop these unearthly beings courteously performed for their killers. He was much more occupied with making sure to stay as sneaky as possible while picking off his quarry one by one. Sadly, when his right knife sank into the throat of his next-to-last victim, the necessity of absolute silence meant he couldn't take a sadistic moment to whisper into a dying Suck-Up's ear, "Grazlar the Mighty's never gonna know about your apple polishing, asshole."

Shoving the already-liquefying body under a handy sidewalk bench, Xander crept after the very last demon unknowingly striding towards its destination, with the man's infuriated mood surprisingly changing into pure incredulity over how easy it'd been. Exasperatedly shaking his head over that guy acting so unprofessionally, the Sunnydale survivor knew he really shouldn't be complaing about an enemy's complete unawareness, but honestly, this was getting ridiculous! Dammit, you check your six whenever you can in Indian territory! If he'd been in charge, Xander would've set out scouts on all sides with strict instructions to keep an eye on everything, including their own asses.

Which meant when the demon who'd been dubbed 'Boss' now stopped in front of a large building and then turned around, this evil fiend confronted not his expected band of idiotic minions, but instead one lone human standing within arm's reach and having a thunderous scowl of extreme disapproval on that stranger's face. The very last thing the demon heard from the unknown human with an eyepatch was a sneered "If you were in _my_ squad, I'd have put you on permanent KP!"

A quick, expert knife-thrust through the shocked demon's bulging eye cut off any possible rejoinder, and as the body hit the ground with a squelching sound, Xander grumpily cleaned off the blade, and then he slipped both of his weapons back under his jacket. Peering around in the dark to make sure there'd been no witnesses to this, unlikely as that might happen so late tonight, the New Council member blinked in sudden bewilderment at where he'd now found himself. The…football stadium? Why would anyone think they'd find a virgin at this place in the middle-

Abruptly snorting an entirely unanticipated guffaw, Xander's face turned from its past grimness of the last few minutes into actual delight, as he finally remembered a specific scene from _Animal House._ Rapidly trotting forward, a smirking man decided he had to check it out, though at a discreet distance, of course. It really wouldn't be fair to disturb Pinto and Clorette in there while these pair of young and very horny teenagers were becoming _much_ better acquainted with each other.

Sure enough, when Xander finally found a spot where he could look into the stadium, he watched with complete amusement the patch of whiteness in the center of the lawn, at the fifty-yard mark, which was the sleeping bag two kids were happily sharing at the moment. A flicker of motion, followed by a barely-seen flash of several objects being tossed from the front of the sleeping bag, showed that things were progressing nicely.

Genially humming under his breath, "_There'll be a hot time in the old town tonight_," Xander quietly left the stadium at the point when the sleeping bag began to flail around, indicating its occupants were hard at work inside, though given the age and inexperience of both there, it'd probably be over pretty damn quickly. On the other hand, there was such a thing as stamina… Sniggering to himself as he left behind those who in the next few moments would no longer need his protection, since by anyone's definition Pinto and Clorette would have joyously rid themselves of what might be called a magical prize of utter innocence, Xander strolled off while also trying to think of the exact opposite of the word 'virgin.' The best he could come up with on his journey back to Delta House was 'unchaste.'

* * *

When the side door to the fraternity garage slammed open, Bluto and D-Day looked up from their labors on the car they were modifying into a menacing tool of mayhem. Turning off his welding torch while flipping back his protective visor, the latter guy shouted over Bluto's power saw carving off a side panel, "Yo, Silver! How'd things go?"

"No problem!" Xander yelled back. Thankfully, Bluto then turned off his ear-splitting implement to beam at somebody who was really gonna help them get even tomorrow with everyone. The two younger men now watched with sincere interest, as their recently-appointed leader got busy unwrapping what he'd picked up from where he'd left it in the bushes only a half-hour ago. Finally getting all the concealing rags off, Xander proudly held up his hard-won treasure where it could be seen and admired by the others.

Simultaneously roaring with laughter, Bluto and D-Day stared in utter glee at the decapitated metal head of the statue of Emil Faber that had for decades been enjoyed by the pigeons in its honored position on the school quad of the college this man had founded back in 1904.


	11. Chapter 11

There was _nothing_ like a good riot, Xander Harris thought to himself with quiet satisfaction.

That specific moment of restraint was completely different from the one-eyed man's current surroundings, what with several hundred panicky people around him screaming, running, and otherwise not having a very good time during the disaster of today's Faber Homecoming Parade. Happily standing there among perfect chaos, the direct cause of all this managed to hear over all the yelling the discordant notes of the college band crammed together inside the distant side alley they'd been lured into by one of the Deltas, every one of these musicians there still desperately trying to play the school fight song. Despite it all, Xander had to admire their sheer dedication.

Abruptly, every other noise was overwhelmed by the sounds of screeching car tires. Crouching down to peer through the lower part of the viewing stand he was standing behind, Xander gleefully saw the appearance of the Deathmoble as it burst out of the massive smoke cloud created by other Deltas setting off the stink bombs they'd created last night at their fraternity. This customized vehicle, with its grille painted to resemble a monster's fanged mouth, then skidded to a dead stop in the middle of Main Street. Staying there, with its roaring engine bellowing a frenzied desire for something to rend and devour, the vibrating car was aimed directly at the viewing stand. Which in turn, meant everyone there on this wooden structure with its tiered seats could also look right at the menacing vehicle and see the severed metal head of the Emil Faber statute presently affixed to the hood of the Deathmobile.

Still in his crouching position, Xander had to hope this would work. According to the fragments of supernatural symbology he'd picked up from years of listening to Wils and other magic-users, confronting a possessed Dean Wormer with such an explicit symbol of the authority and office he'd usurped couldn't help but affect the demon currently in control of this human's body. Plus, the grim warning of the fate possibly in store for Grazlar the Mighty would, at the very least, rattle him sufficiently for Xander to get near enough for the New Council member to do what he had to do while this demon was distracted.

This actually seemed to come to pass, since most of the occupants of the viewing stand promptly left their former seats in what could best be expressed as a terrified stampede. These people did everything but run over anyone in their path as they jumped, scrambled, or otherwise got off the temporary structure as fast as they could. Left behind were only about a half-dozen people totally paralyzed in shock as they stood at the front of the viewing stand, gaping at the threatening car. Whose driver hidden inside the vehicle, with a truly maniac look on his face, joyously announced, "Ramming speed!"

Blasting its attached train whistle, the car then hurled itself forward with irresistible force, at the very same moment Dean Wormer on the viewing stand now said with absolute disgust in his voice, "I hate those guys."

Making a last-second swerve towards its target, the Deathmobile plowed into the side of the viewing stand, entirely knocking down this fragile structure with a sound of splintering lumber intermixed with the screams of its former occupants being tossed up in the air, and coming down to painfully land among the collapsed ruins.

Dashing forward even before everything completely settled, Xander dove into the remnants of the viewing stand, and wiggled his way through towards what had been the front of this wooden structure. The man with an eyepatch ignored the rest of the moaning people there, even though nobody seemed to be seriously injured except for probably some thorough bruising. He was looking for one specific person- _There_ he was!

A very dazed Dean Wormer was sitting on the ground and leaning back against a still-standing support beam. Seeing this, Xander squirmed sideways, until he got in the proper position, mostly concealed behind the Dean against anyone seeing him there within arm's reach of the older man. However, Xander would've been willing to do next what was vitally necessary in full sight of everyone, as the Sunnydale survivor reached into his jeans pocket, and he pulled out a very special knife. Gripping this deadly weapon, Xander then stabbed with blinding speed towards the back of Dean Wormer's neck.

Almost two decades of using tools of carnage against demonkind now allowed an expert Xander to skillfully arrest his otherwise fatal thrust, to instead just barely break the skin of his prey with the very tip of his dagger. Not even noticing the latest minute pain in the midst of his entirely aching body, Dean Wormer never felt the single drop of blood well out of the tiny wound there, to then coat the point of the soul dagger which Xander had taken off the other demon in the pentagram at the Administration Building's basement several weeks ago.

Back when the soul of Trooper the horse had been collected by the pentagram and then stored into the dagger carried by Xander, almost all of the equine's spirit had moved into this magical object. However, a portion of the horse's essence had tried to become one of the possessions of this Scooby Gang member, only to be eventually destroyed by Willow's protection spell. Much later, Xander had an inspiration while wondering how to free Dean Wormer of that man's own possession by Grazlar the Mighty. Obviously, if the soul dagger wasn't completely filled by a horse's soul, there might be room for something else…

* * *

Grazlar the Mighty could do nothing but stand on his four limbs in absolute shock. It'd all happened too fast for him to do anything at all. One second, he'd been sitting down in his pain-wracked human body in the ruins of the viewing stand, and now he felt totally fine - and yet completely different! Wildly looking around the bare grassland that stretched out forever in glorious greenery to the horizon itself, Grazlar then glanced down in growing panic at his new body. Stretching his neck, the stunned demon identified this to be one of those four-legged beasts which humans used for riding purposes back at his college-

With suddenly bulging eyes, Grazlar noticed something which meant he couldn't ever again use the masculine pronoun while referring to…herself. There was an object presently missing from the lower rear of…her…body-

A soft, warm breath abruptly blew into Grazlar's ear. Snapping her neck back up, the demon stared in horror at the other horse standing there just a few feet away. This sheer dismay only increased at seeing then the truly lecherous grin sent towards herself by this strange equine, along with something also witnessed from the corner of Grazlar's eye. Something that unequivocally revealed to anyone around her new companion was completely and utterly male, as from under him, a slowly appearing-

With a terrified whinny, Grazlar got control enough of her four limbs to instantly perform a mad dash away from that other lewd horse, heading towards the horizon as fast as she could.

Placidly trotting along after, Trooper wasn't bothered a bit by that abrupt flight of the mare with those superb haunches. Sooner or later, he'd catch up with her, in this gloriously perfect place of eternal fine weather, juicy grass to eat, fresh water to drink, and now, someone to share it with and give a Trooper-pounding for ever and ever and ever…

* * *

Dean Wormer had no idea what the hell was happening. Where was he? Why was he sitting down? Why did it hurt so much? And above all, why was somebody who looked young enough to be a student at Faber College earnestly asking him to give them one more chance?

* * *

Among the still-panicking crowd, Xander was sniggering to himself, as he strolled down the thronged Main Street sidewalk. His remaining eye falling upon something there on the roadside, the New Council member looked around, and once he was satisfied everyone else was occupied with their own problems, the man bent down to slip out a dagger from his jeans pocket and flip this weapon into the storm drain cut into the curb. Straightening up, a wide smile upon his scarred face, Xander continued to chuckle as he resumed his jaunty walk.

The mystical shock he'd felt through the dagger at the instant Dean Wormer's blood had touched the metal was a clear signal that the demon who was possessing this school administrator had been sucked into the soul dagger. Now that the older man was free of Grazlar's control, the best thing to do was to quickly get rid of the dagger, in a spot where anyone was unlikely to ever find the knife again. Still, even if that dagger was indeed discovered by some sewer worker or whatever, nobody could use it for its magical purpose again, since it'd been completely filled up with a pair of souls. A very wicked smirk appeared on Xander's features, as he contemplated how Grazlar was presently interacting with Trooper, since that horse's soul mainly filling up most of the dagger would be in supreme control of everything.

Well, fun was fun, but now what? The _Animal House_ movie was pretty much over, and Xander had no idea at all what came next. According to what the infuriating Power That Be had said right at the start of it all, he might've accomplished his job of 'protecting he who must not be harmed', but why should Dean Wormer deserve this protection, anyway? And what about the other part, the 'doom of her if you fail-'

_CRACK!_

Xander instantly dropped flat onto the sidewalk at hearing the gunshot, his Soldier-Boy reflexes taking over at being under fire. Warily looking up as around him the crowd became even more alarmed, a horror-struck Xander now stared at something appalling taking place further up the street.

There, Flounder was dazedly standing, the shattered remnant of the seltzer bottle he'd been about to spray Neidermeyer with dangling from one pudgy hand. This Faber College ROTC member in his uniform, a rifle which was supposed to be unloaded, and a truly insane gleam in his eyes, was now fumbling in his shirt pocket for another round to permanently deal with that overweight piece of shit.

Scrambling to his feet, Xander desperately glanced around. According to the movie, the crazed Omega had been kept from shooting Flounder by being taken care of during a truly hilarious sight gag-

Goggling at the front half of a parade float that earlier had been broadsided by the Deathmobile and broken in two, Xander saw this damaged vehicle was parked against the opposite side of the street, its driver's door open and the inside empty, with the operator undoubtedly deciding to quit his job over the entire day's craziness. Without even thinking about it, Xander dashed forward, diving into the parade float and the driver's seat. The engine was still running, so silently thanking whoever deity was in charge of automobiles he'd eventually learned to drive a manual transmission, Xander moved the parking brake, stomped on the clutch, and shifted out of neutral.

Lurching forward, the float, with its exhibit of a massive black hand which had been clasping an equally large white hand as a self-righteous representation of racial unity until the rear part of the elaborately decorated vehicle went missing, now headed down the street. Xander battled with the clutch, stick shift, pedals, and everything else, until he finally got to what seemed the highest speed possible for the float.

Urgently peering through the viewing slit cut in the front of the parade vehicle, Xander saw Neidermeyer raising his rifle after reloading it. Aiming his float directly at the idiot, the New Council member was perfectly willing to run over the demented college student, except when he was just a few yards away, some unnoticing member of the crowd ran right into Xander's path. Instantly turning the steering wheel, Xander lost track of Neidermeyer, until a heavy _thump!_ sound came from the right side of the float, where there was-

Starting to laugh out loud over the screaming curses now coming from the passenger who'd just been scooped up in the enormous replica of a black hand, Xander maintained his course and sped down the street for the next couple of blocks. Leaving the riot far behind, the one-eyed man wondered what to do now. He was going fast enough so that Neidermeyer couldn't jump off at present, but if he stopped, that crazy guy might still have his rifle and shoot Xander getting out of the float. Peering once more through the viewing slit, Xander spotted a vacant lot up ahead filled entirely with what looked like…oh, yeah!

Waiting until the proper moment, Xander abruptly spun the steering wheel to the right, knowing centrifugal force would keep Neidermeyer pinned against the hand. Skidding around on the road in a curve, the float now headed directly at the vacant lot, until Xander stiffened his arms. It probably wouldn't do any good, not without a seatbelt, but it was worth a try anyway, as Xander now stomped with all the force he could muster upon the brake pedal. Sure enough, Xander was painfully slammed forward against the steering wheel due to the sudden stop, but even as his breath whooshed out, a smirking Scooby Gang member heard the horrified scream of Neidermeyer being flung out from his former position in the palm of the paper-mache hand. Gasping for air, Xander still enjoyed the even bigger scream of an absolute asshole landing face-first into a bunch of rose bushes, who even if they weren't blooming this late in fall, these plants still had their very sharp thorns.

Continuing to giggle, no matter how much it made his ribs hurt, Xander tried an experimental inhalation to see if he'd really broken something there. Coming to the conclusion that, yep, it sure felt like it, a resigned Xander sighed-

-and then he let out a startled whoop, when this man suddenly sat up in his bed, a fraction of a second later.

Incredulously looking around, Xander Harris found himself right back in his Cleveland bed, where he'd been peacefully sleeping a couple of months ago, just before being yanked out of it to be sent to the _Animal House_ dimension. For some reason, he was back home again. There couldn't possibly be any mistake, not when right by the bedroom door, his Twinkie night light was warmly glowing.

Dazedly getting out of bed, Xander stood there for a moment, before walking over to crouch down and stare at close range with his remaining eye at a very much appreciated birthday gift. Which, as his girls had proudly told him, had been specially made for their Xander-shaped friend.

That reminded him of something, which was abruptly cut off when Xander straightened up and winced over what the front of his body now felt like. Bringing up a finger to hook away the collar of his sleeping t-shirt, Xander gawked down at what was under the fabric. A few moments afterwards, Xander was once more staring at his bathroom mirror. The strong light now on in this room vividly showed off the circular bruise on his upper torso in the perfect shape of a steering wheel.

Taking his hands away from the sides of his lifted t-shirt which allowed this article of clothing to fall back down, Xander wandered out of his en-suite bathroom, to then stand thinking in the middle of his bedroom for a while. Eventually, he spoke out loud, "Okay, time to tell other people about this, even if it's…" Looking over at the illuminated bedside clock, Xander cringed, "…three-twenty in the morning!"

Sighing, Xander went off to get dressed. Considering what he and the remaining members of the Scoobies had shared together for nearly twenty years now (all the apocalypses, family conflicts, various relationships with reformed demons, et cetera) Xander was reasonably sure that when he woke up Dawn, Buffy, and Faith here, they wouldn't throw anything _too_ heavy at him.

* * *

"Well, he was _somewhere,_" Willow Rosenberg confirmed while standing in the center of the breakfast nook table. Waving her right hand in mystical gestures which had several years before been snarkily accused of making up on the spot, the astral form of the red-haired witch was holding in her left hand the first coffee of the day. From her workshop in the Scotland castle several hours ahead of Cleveland, Willow now said thoughtfully, "Even besides what I just healed him, the traces from being shifted into and back again from another dimension are unmistakable."

Glancing up from her cup of hot chocolate, Dawn dryly asked, as the last of the twinkling lights that had been drifting around a seated Xander now disappeared, "Xan, you're not gonna say, 'But it wasn't a dream. It was a place. And you and you and you...and you were there,' are you?"

Giving the smirking younger Summers sister his best dirty look, Xander was about to say something truly rude, until he was interrupted without even starting by Faith's attack of the giggles. This Slayer had earlier laughed herself out during Xander's entire story of his stay at Faber College, but now she was back again to enjoying it all. Particularly when the brunette woman now snickered, "Hey, I wouldn't minded bein' there, anyways. Not when that Pinto guy had the right idea of me bein' amazin'. Coupla years ago, 'fore I settled down, I woulda given him a ride on the Faith-go-round just for that."

As the Boston native leered around the table, she was a bit disappointed at the unflustered reactions to her coarse remark. All too used to the most wayward of their little family, Xander, Dawn, and Willow merely gazed back at her, and Buffy…

At the moment, Buffy Summers was doing a superb zombie impression, what with her slack jaw, blank eyes staring straight ahead, and slumping posture in her chair. This blonde woman's own cup of hot chocolate was sitting undisturbed on the tabletop, a perfect demonstration of how out of it she was after being literally dragged out of her bed tonight and carried down to the Cleveland House's sitting room off the kitchen.

Wryly eyeing her sister Slayer, Faith thought, *Nobody else in here is gonna think her a legend if they see what B's like now. Good thing Red put a 'go-away' spell on our li'l talk, makin' sure we don't get bothered by anybody wantin' a late snack. They'll eat their own boots 'fore we get interrupted.*

Shaking her head, Faith was abruptly struck by a stray thought out of nowhere. Directing her next comment to Xander, Faith asked him, "Say, was that Bluto guy anythin' like my favorite character in the movie I like best? Ya know, Jake from _The Blues Brothers._ They were played by the same actor, too. Wouldn't have minded bein' in the same movie with those guys. Jake and Elwood and the band and Ray Charles-"

"Yeah, yeah," interrupted Xander, "we get the idea."

Thinking it over, he shrugged. "I guess there were some things the same, though I never told him about it. It would've been too weird for him to buy." Glancing around the table, where three women were regarding him with fascination and Buffy was beginning to slowly lean forward, Xander casually asked Dawn, "If we're going to be talking about films you want to be in, then what's yours, Dawnie?"

A happy smile slowly appeared on this young lady's face, as she chuckled, "Oh, just offhand- _Toy Story,_ either the first or second. I bet the Dawn-doll in there could make Woody and Buzz Lightyear forget about any Barbie ever made, no question about it." Looking with sudden interest at the intangible form of the most powerful witch in the world smiling back at herself, Dawn then sent out her own question: "So, what movie would _you_ most like to be in, Willow?"

To the unexpected surprise of a pair of females there, the smartest student at Sunnydale High immediately blushed bright red, to then hastily say, "Uh, I have to go now, but I'll tell Giles all about it later today, love you all, Xander, you talk to me right away if you feel any strange effects, goodbye!"

Right after this babble, the astral form of the witch swiftly vanished from where she'd been standing inside a piece of furniture, leaving Faith and Dawn gaping at the empty spot. Both women then heard Xander guffawing to himself from his chair. Simultaneously turning their heads to stare at the man, they then heard from him a short phrase: "_To Kill A Mockingbird._"

Despite knowing it had to mean something, Faith was yet drawing a blank, until she observed Dawn nodding to herself, and asking Xander, "What, Willow wanted to be Scout from that movie?"

Giving them both, including a still-confused Faith, a very wry grin, Xander nodded, "Either that, or Mrs. Atticus Finch. Wils had a really major crush on Gregory Peck when she was ten."

Giggling over hearing this, Dawn finally noticed Faith had no idea what they were talking about. This produced from the youngest there a firm declaration, "Dibs on Movie Night! Faith, we'll watch it then, and you can see for yourself. Maybe we can talk Willow into coming here, and tease her afterwards!"

"Sounds good to me," cheerfully said the man with the eyepatch. Stifling a yawn, Xander offhandedly asked, "So, Buffy, what's your favorite film to personally visit?"

"Blsfgzt," mumbled this Slayer.

All there stared in surprise at where a fast-asleep Buffy Summers was resting the side of her head on the tabletop, eyes closed and mouth opened enough to allow a line of drool to drip onto the wooden surface.

Both Xander and Dawn now heard from a resigned Faith, "She was up all night with the twins. Might as well as take her back to our bed. When we feed and change the li'l monsters in the mornin', I'll tell her everythin' all over again, and ask what ya wanted to hear, Xan. See ya then, 'kay?"

At her listeners' mutual nods of amused agreement, Faith got up from her chair and walked around to the table to pick up and gently put over her shoulder a woman in a fireman's carry that left a comatose Buffy hanging head downwards. This produced from the blonde Slayer her only reaction during the entire conference, when Buffy let out from the middle of her slumber a happy gurgle and clasped her arms around Faith's waist, to then blissfully use the brunette woman's magnificent rear as a pillow.

Glancing over her shoulder, Faith smirked as she fondly said of her wife, "B knows what Mommy likes. Took her long enough, but we had plenty a' fun gettin' there." Tenderly carrying her beloved back to their apartment, Faith left Xander and Dawn alone in the breakfast nook.

For the next several moments, the pair of Scoobies there sat in companionable silence, with both of them occasionally sipping at their hot chocolate. Xander had snagged Buffy's cup right after she and Faith had left them. However, Dawn had to finally comment, "Look, Xan, what's wrong? And don't tell me there's nothing bugging you, not when we know better. I thought you had a great time in the _Animal House_ movie, so why are you looking so down about it?"

Sighing as he put his empty cup down, Xander had to ruefully answer, "Yeah, you hit the nail on the head, all of 'em. It was a lot of fun, one of the best unplanned vacations I've ever had, except for one tiny little detail." Throwing up his hands in evident exasperation, the one-eyed man now declared, "After it all, I _still _don't know why I went through everything in the first place! Nothing was ever made clear about 'protecting he who must not be harmed' and the 'doom of her if you fail', which pretty much convinces me the Powers That Be were just yanking my chain over the whole situation! I'm telling you, Dawnie, right now I feel like I spent a couple of hours reading a mystery novel, only to find out at the end of the story that someone ripped out the entire last chapter, and I'll never know who the murderer was!"


	12. Chapter 12

_Flounder_

Uttering to himself a very wry chuckle under his breath, the heavyset man with a graying beard put down his pen on the office desk, and he leaned back in his chair. Regarding what he'd absently just written on the form in the signature block at the bottom of this sheet of paper, this man now knew he had to start all over again at filling out everything there. It was an actual legal document, after all, which meant there was no possible way his Delta House name given to him thirty-five years ago would be acceptable at all to the bureaucrats responsible for running things here.

Crumpling up the paper in one hand, Flounder (hey, since he was thinking of himself as that, he might as well continue) casually tossed the wadded form into the wastebasket next to his desk. Next, this man pulled out another document from the stacks of red tape, carefully checking to make sure he'd gotten the right one. Seeing the printed words 'Notice Of Approval For Early Discharge' at the top of this sheet, Flounder nodded in calm satisfaction, and at the very first information block, he filled out in a neat hand the name of his latest patient at Pescadero State Hospital:

_Buffy Anne Summers_

Bemusedly cocking an eyebrow over what people actually called their children, Dr. Kent Dorfman, Ph.D, aka Flounder, started to work his way down the psychiatric evaluation, until a flood of memories came rushing back, abruptly brought into existence due to what he'd discussed with a certain young lady several minutes ago. Again setting down his pen and relaxing in his chair, Flounder decided to allow himself a few minutes' nostalgia, lest he accidentally spoil things once more and have to redo everything on the form yet again.

* * *

Despite how a particular movie comedy might have ended, in the real world, there were definite consequences for your actions. Which meant, a day after the Faber Homecoming parade fiasco, the former inhabitants of Delta House, or at least those who could be located, were facing a rather unpleasant future. A future which had in it the words 'criminal charges.'

The lawyer sent by the Delta fraternity to represent the subdued band of young men gathered in a motel room in the neighboring town from Faber had a note of actual awe in his voice when he informed his listeners, "Among everything else, you even got accused of fomenting rebellion, a charge my firm hasn't had to deal with since the Civil War. _That_ alone makes this a once-in-a-lifetime case!"

"I'm so glad we're deep enough in the shit to give you a happy in your pants," sarcastically growled Boon, as the other guys there became still more miserable at the near-certain prospect of prison time.

Their lawyer didn't seem offended by this, as the man only ten or fifteen years older than the seniors just grinned back at everyone. Instead, he went on to snicker, "I thought me and _my_ college buddies in our Delta house were real scoundrels, but you people put us all in the shade! Trust me, I'm gonna do my best to get you off, just to be able to brag about it to my own frat brothers."

Everyone there who'd participated in the riot now felt the faintest stirrings of hope, as the lawyer then briskly uttered a series of firm orders: "Okay, listen up, Deltas! First of all, you keep your mouths shut about _everything,_ understand? You don't talk to anyone but me, you don't brag about it, you don't lip off to the press, cops, college, or the town. You stay sober, you dress up and be polite, and most important of all, you _BEHAVE!_ Anyone who screws up and makes more trouble, I'm perfectly willing to toss 'em to the wolves!"

From the back of the suddenly respectful crowd came an impressed whisper, "He sounds like Silver."

Quickly pulling out a notebook and a pen from his suit, the lawyer intently asked, "Who's Silver?"

From then on, things improved for the Deltas, starting with Dean Wormer's nervous breakdown several days later. From what their lawyer told them afterwards, the dean had adamantly insisted to anyone questioning him that he was suffering from total amnesia regarding not just the events of the last few days but even further back, to a couple of years, however unbelievable as this might seem. Indeed, his interviewers' extreme skepticism grew even more over what most of them considered to be nothing but a clumsy attempt to avoid any possible blame for what was now referred to as the 'Faber riot'. Particularly since the Deltas' lawyer and the Faber College trustees in their separate investigations were both discovering some very odd things about Dean Wormer's personality, behavior, and actions involving that school administrator's evident feud with his college's Delta House.

(As the lawyer later on incredulously declared to an embarrassed group of trustees, "_Double secret probation?_")

It all came down to the former dean being given a choice while under heavy sedation in a mental facility: retire quietly and continue keeping his mouth shut, and he'd be allowed to retain his pension and medical benefits. Since his wife was already in the process of divorcing him and taking her husband for everything but his underwear in the legal proceedings, Wormer eventually gave in and disappeared from sight, to pass away a decade later due to a fatal stroke suffered by that still hot-tempered man.

With this out of the way, the Faber College trustees and the Deltas' lawyer found themselves working together against the other side, the town of Faber itself. Determined to make _someone_ pay for ruining their parade, the municipality made several angry demands which were reluctantly agreed to by their opponents. First of all, the hovel of a Delta House was to stay permanently closed, and the fraternity itself was banned from opening another such residence upon the college grounds for a full decade.

All Delta brothers directly involved in the disturbance were to be expelled from Faber College, and this did occur. However, discreet, behind-the-scenes networking between various Delta old boys got those who still wanted to attend college into other schools having Delta Houses there, along with retaining their military deferments. The law was sternly laid down to those given second chances, that they'd damn well better stay out of trouble and concentrate on their studies, or risk getting kicked out again and immediately drafted.

In the end, a final conference was held between the Deltas and their lawyer, who glumly announced to them all, "Guys, there's a big problem. The town of Faber won't budge the slightest on their last demand. They're still being absolutely stubborn on that some specific Delta has to be arrested, tried, and sent to jail for what you did. They told me and the trustees that you guys couldn't get off completely scot-free, but we managed to negotiate a deal where you pick somebody to be sacrificed."

Surprisingly, instead of the normal shouts of anger and protest he'd expected, the lawyer got in return a shared doleful expression evident upon all the faces gazing back at him. Bob Hoover, former president of the Delta House and clearly the spokesman for them, just nodded and replied to someone they'd come to like and even use his first name, "We figured, Leland. What's the weirdest part is that Silver must've known too, 'cause he told us right off, after we agreed to his plan to mess up everything, to blame it all on him if and when we got caught."

Leland McKenzie had to actually blink over hearing this. He cautiously said, "You still haven't heard from him?"

The whole crowd simultaneously shook their heads over their missing comrade. Sighing, the lawyer informed the room, "Okay, then. If you're really sure about it, I'll go back and tell them that this, uh, Xander Harris is the one they need to look for. That should settle things for once and all, but if your friend known as Silver gets detained soon and any of you learn about it, pass the word onto me as fast as possible. Either I or somebody else the Delta fraternity hires will defend him in court, and we'll do our best for him. Frankly, from what you've told me about him, I definitely want to talk to this guy."

"No offense, Leland," a very acerbic Otter commented, "But we'd much rather you didn't, given how the only way you'll probably meet Silver if he's behind bars."

"Fair enough," shrugged Leland, going on to give everyone there an uncompromising glower, while saying, "Just keep in your tiny little minds that aiding and abetting a fugitive is a serious crime, and you really don't need that kind of trouble. Leave it all to me, guys, and go on with your lives."

As the days, weeks, months, years, and finally decades went by, the advice given to the young men in the motel room by their lawyer eventually came to pass. All those who'd been part of Delta House during the last half of 1962 soon became occupied with their normal pursuits, which included actually learning something at college, getting a job or joining a profession due to this, and also doing other things like every other member of the human race. Such as meeting a nice girl, marrying her (even several times the same one, in the case of Boon and Katy), having kids, watching glumly as their waistlines and hairlines changed, and now and then, having reunions with their Delta brothers.

'Once a Delta, always a Delta' was something firmly believed by the previous attendees at Faber College, which caused all the guys to look eagerly forward to the meetings with their friends from all over the country. One such reunion at a reception center in New York City during the bicentennial year of 1976 was the largest ever, with virtually everyone from fourteen years ago now there. Except for Silver, of course.

During the usual boozy reminiscences among the crowd, it was quickly confirmed that just as it'd been over nearly the last decade and a half, nobody there had heard anything at all from or about this one-eyed man, who was still maintaining his perfect streak of triumphantly avoiding the authorities. A very gleeful toast was promptly performed by all, who wished Silver the very best of luck in his life as a fugitive. After their glasses and cans had been drained, people started looking around for another drink, only to be interrupted by Larry Kroger climbing up onto a chair in the middle of the room and calling for everyone's attention.

The crowd now focused (albeit somewhat blearily for a couple of the guys there) upon a man who'd become a successful writer and later on an editor for a college humor magazine. During this, Larry had written a few hilarious stories about the exploits of Delta House during his time there, and they'd been enthusiastically received by his readers. Which included all the former residents at that Pennsylvania fraternity, none of whom minded the slightest the idea of Pinto writing about themselves. It was true he'd called the guys in his stories by their house names, but since Larry had also changed everyone's real names, it wasn't like they'd officially been exposed to the entire world.

Knowing he had to speak fast before some brother launched an empty beer can at his head, Larry announced, "Guys, I've got something important to tell you all. I put together my Delta House stories into a movie script and send it out on spec to some of the Hollywood studios. Well, guess what? Columbia brought it!"

This surprising bit of news received a loud cheer and several suggestions that the rest of the drinks were on Larry, who just smirked at them from his position on top of the chair. Shouting over sarcastic cries of "Cheap bastard!", Larry warned everyone, "In the movie world, everything's a crapshoot, fellas! There's no guarantee a film will be made at all, or that it'll be good or even recognizable! But, for it to get on track, something has to be done first. See over there?"

Heads turned in the crowd at where Larry was now pointing, one of the reception tables which now had a stack of papers resting there. Their puzzled notice was quickly brought back by Larry continuing, "I could get away with my magazine stories, but movies are different. Because I wrote about real people and put 'em in the script, the studio lawyers say I have to contact anyone I mentioned and get them to sign a release form allowing their portrayal in the movie. Since the film might or might not be made, I didn't get all that much money from the legal department to pay anyone who permanently signs away their rights-"

"HOLD EVERYTHING!" interrupted a bellowing Otter, who'd stepped out from the shocked crowd to stand there and glare at the startled other Delta still perched on his chair. In a very menacing voice, the man named after an aquatic weasel in his college days, who'd afterwards become a flourishing Beverly Hills gynecologist, now stated, "Are you saying, that if I sign, by tomorrow morning I'll wake up in my hotel bed with one hell of a hangover, a couple of extra bucks in my pocket, and the definite sensation that I've been seriously screwed over?"

Pausing to think about this for a few seconds, Larry then sheepishly shrugged, "Yeah, pretty much."

Dramatically spinning around to march towards the table with the release forms, Otter jovially called over his shoulder, "Oh, well, why didn't you just _say_ so?" Grabbing the first sheet of paper, the doctor who was still a devoted horndog now signed his name with a grand flourish.

The laughing crowd now all lined up behind Otter, getting ready to give their own permission. Included in the queue was a practicing California psychologist who'd long ago been nicknamed Flounder. After signing, that man and the rest of the Deltas cheerfully went back to the party, and they didn't give the least bit of thought to what they'd done. Until a year later, they learned to their complete astonishment that a film named _Animal House_ was about to start shooting in Oregon.

Several months afterwards, a special screening of the completed film before it went into wide release was offered by Columbia Studios to any former Delta House member able to come see this movie. Naturally, everyone showed up, and joined by numerous actors and others involved with the filmic record of their hell-raising exploits, the Delta House brothers watched a bunch of college guys back in the early sixties have the time of their lives. As expected, the entire audience loved it, just like millions of people would also do so for the next several decades.

When the lights came up in the screening room, the crowd quickly adjourned to another place nearby to celebrate the success of what was about to be released onto an unsuspecting world. Happily standing in the conference room, Larry Kroger good-humouredly waited for his Delta brothers to deliver their congratulations in these friends' usual style of seriously busting his balls. Watching in awe during all this were the various actors and actresses who'd portrayed the same people they were now meeting.

Perhaps this was the reason why Bluto put a little more swagger in his stride than usual when he stepped in front of Larry. Looking right into the resigned face of someone whose leg he'd peed upon years ago, the burly Delta now gleefully asked, "So, Pinto, how come you didn't get hauled off to the clink for statutory rape when you nailed your little girlfriend on the football field?"

Sharing an exasperated glance, Mandy Blutarsky and Clorette Kroger then glowered at their respective spouses, with this latter woman then jerking a wifely thumb towards her smirking husband, as she snapped, "Mr. Big Shot Writer here, he thought it'd be real funny to knock off a few years off my age. I was sixteen, not thirteen! This was legal then, plus it made a lot more sense on how I was able to work as a cashier in my dad's store!"

Pausing at seeing the suddenly relieved look which had flashed over a young woman's face in the listening crowd, Clorette put on her own features a truly mischievous expression which showed there was good reason she'd long ago been awarded the title of 'Honorary Delta' due to a certain party. This became even more evident as the older woman snickered directly towards this actress who instantly blushed brick red at what she heard, "Besides, honey, I never had tits like yours when _I_ was thirteen!"

Raucous laughter shook the room for the next few moments, until things calmed down for someone else to ask a question. Pointing to a smiling D-Day across in the crowd while clad in his immaculate Marine dress blues, a puzzled Katy asked, "Hey, Larry, how come in the end credits you said this guy was missing? He's right here!"

There was a sudden hush throughout the entire space, as all there waited for an answer. They watched a very sad look appear on Larry's countenance, right before he sighed, and explained, "Dan said it was okay, when I told him why I wanted it that way. It's a homage to Silver, guys, how he disappeared into thin air and hasn't shown up since."

"You couldn't find him at all?" incredulously asked Flounder, beating ahead the rest there.

Larry dolefully shook his head. "Not a single clue, and I asked all the Deltas and everyone else from Faber who was still alive and willing to talk to me. Nobody knew, either. Over the years, whenever I'm in a new city, I check the phone books for any Xander Harris, without finding him. It didn't help any that I learned a while back the name Xander can be short for Alexander, which made it even more hopeless. The studio gave me some money a few months before the film started to hire a professional skip tracer, but they didn't have any luck either. It all wound up with me having to write a script leaving out Silver totally, no matter how much I hated to do it."

For the first time, one of the non-Deltas in the crowd listening with fascination spoke up, with this actor asking in complete bafflement, "Who's Silver?"

* * *

In his office inside the state psychiatric hospital, Flounder returned from this thoughts to the present, as he sadly mused upon the fact nearly twenty years later, Silver the Delta House member was still missing.

* * *

Back then, Larry had permanently moved to the West Coast after the successful opening of _Animal House,_ writing even more movies and also working as a script doctor. Flounder and Pinto were still good friends, and over time, they'd started having lunch together whenever they could. Every month or so, when the conversation drifted to their college days, Larry had to confess there'd never been any news about Silver or Xander Harris, even though a lot more people now knew about this minor mystery regarding the cult comedy film and this had continued right up to the present day.

During one meal recently after hearing this, Kent had tried to change the depressed mood at their table by asking something he'd just thought, "Larry, you had really great luck in getting such a talented bunch of guys at the start of their careers to appear in the movie, right?"

"Mmm-hmmm," agreeably mumbled Larry through his mouthful of pasta.

"Well, I was just wondering, if you'd managed to find Silver around then, or if he showed up on his own and signed the release form, who would've played him in the film?"

An genuine look of interest appeared on Larry's face while this man absently swallowed, thinking this over. He eventually cautioned, "I didn't have anything to do with the casting back then."

Flounder nodded impatiently, as he urged, "Still, if you could've gotten anyone at all…?"

Leaning back in the booth after his best friend since college trailed off, Larry was indisputably tickled over hearing an actual new question about his film. He still liked talking about _Animal House,_ but it was now rare to have to think about something novel regarding the movie. Starting to ponder out loud, Larry muttered, "Let's see, the late seventies, whoever back then would've had to be around thirty like Silver was, just starting out as an actor, plus he had to pull off playing both one very scary guy and also somebody who knew how to flat-out have fun- Huh!" That last yelp was quickly accompanied by a gleeful grin, signifying Larry had actually thought of someone.

After a few more moments of his friend doing nothing but smirking to himself, an annoyed Kent demanded, "Well?"

"Tommy Lee Jones," chuckled Larry Kroger.

Kent's mouth fell open, as he stared at a guffawing Pinto. Eventually regaining his voice, the other Delta spluttered, "What, you mean the actor from _The Fugitive?_ You're having me on! How could that grim, totally serious guy ever show himself enjoying life, like Silver did?"

Larry wryly eyed Kent, pointing out, "Acting a part doesn't mean that's all any actor is, Flounder. Besides, I've met the man in real life, and he's got an actual sense of humor. He would've been great as Silver then, and Jones might've had more chances to play comedy than he actually did, ever since a breakout role in _Rolling Thunder_ back in 1977. Right now, he's shooting something that's got good word-of-mouth, called _Men In Black,_ and it sounds like it'll show everyone he can do funny stuff."

"I suppose so," Kent responded doubtfully. They went back to finishing off their lunch, and made arrangements to eat together soon again.

* * *

The psychiatrist in the office guiltily collected himself over spending so much time thinking about such trivial things, and he soon devoted his attention into completing the mental health evaluation. Nevertheless, during this, Dr. Dorfman couldn't help bringing up his short time as a Delta at Faber College regarding the specific person who'd necessitated him interviewing one Buffy Anne Summers.

Like all the main characters from _Animal House,_ the good doctor occasionally met someone who realized exactly whom their new acquaintance was. Kent didn't really mind, even if he usually kept it quiet in order to maintain the obligatory dignity of his profession. But, if they came right out and asked, the man was willing enough to admit he'd once been the Delta frat brother known as Flounder. Of course, this often produced several other questions, which _always_ included two particular inquiries. The only good thing about it now was the passing amusement gained by seeing the utterly incredulous looks on their faces, as they heard the very tolerant replies:

Yes, he really did puke all over Dean Wormer.

Yes, he really did shoot the gun with blanks that made Trooper the horse die from pure fright.

Dr. Dorfman still possessed a thorough dislike regarding the entire equine species. On the other hand, once a year, he sent a rather large check to the Southern California Humane Society directing it to be used to assist in the care of injured, sick, and abandoned horses. Kent half-heartedly tried to convince himself this was just a minor charitable impulse, with his other altruistic endeavors being much more important, such as the two days a week he took from his practice to offer free psychiatric help to the patients at Pescadero State Hospital.

Frowning to himself, Kent couldn't help but to think that the regular psychiatrist, whose office he was now in and had been asked to cover for today when this doctor had unexpectedly called in sick, deserved to be scrupulously covered with the entire contents of his stomach. From what he'd picked up from the staff and those patients willing to freely talk, this arrogant asshole far preferred to use the people under his presumed care to accumulate enough data to churn out several dozen medical papers a year. It didn't seem to matter these articles apparently never advanced anything new or possibly beneficial to society in general. The only thing which mattered was sooner or later, this much production of useless dreck would catch the eye of some outside hospital chief and get a genuinely useless psychiatric into a much larger office with an accompanying steep rise in salary.

Worse of all, the bastard in white was keeping anyone transferred to him far longer in psychiatric incarceration that was genuinely necessary, just to make sure he could squeeze a few more interesting footnotes out of them. Regardless of what the patients themselves wanted, or more important, what they needed. Dr. Dorfman had been quietly gathering information and he was about to make a formal complaint to the hospital board concerning all this very soon. In the meantime, at least he could intervene in today's cases. One in particular had been genuinely distressing.

It'd have normally been over and done with, the case involving Buffy Anne Summers. Kent hadn't been very happy simply reading about it in the first place. People suffering from mental problems were to be institutionalized only as a last resort, not just because a married couple couldn't deal with their daughter's erratic behavior. There was plenty of help available from other health professionals, if only Hank and Joyce Summers had even bothered to look for it.

The psychiatrist had just barely kept his own anger under control when he'd met the young lady herself for their first and only interview, and he'd seen how terrified she was. Once the girl had sat down in the office, the tiny blonde had immediately started babbling over how sorry she was, she'd never do it again, and anything else Dr. Dorfman might be wanting to hear. It didn't take long for Kent to understand she well knew about the reputation of the other doctor he was temporarily replacing, and to explain he wasn't that man. The waterworks had promptly started, and after handing over a ready box of tissues, Kent patiently coaxed out from her a vague story of a gang attack at her high school which resulted in the gym burning down.

Starting from his first year at college in the Delta House, Flounder had found himself in the company of liars ranging from merely proficient to the genius level. He soon found he had a talent for sniffing out false statements, though the young man wasn't very good at actually lying himself. It didn't matter, since Kent was soon becoming interested about why and how people spoke what they knew and believed to be the truth, even if it was most decidedly not. This soon lead him into psychiatry, and he found it to be something he could sincerely be good at for the first time in his entire life.

Right now, Dr. Dorfman knew that Buffy Summers was lying to him, but he didn't really care about the particulars. Instead, he judged this young lady to be quite sane, and she most decidedly didn't need to be in the hospital. Any problems she had (and Kent was soon beginning to oddly feel these difficulties were far vaster than normal for someone her age) could best be dealt with in another environment. Briskly explaining to a wide-eyed girl that in his opinion, her mother's plans to move the Summers women into an entirely new home was exactly the right thing to do, Kent happily went on to give her the good news. By his authority as the physician in charge, even if it was only temporary for today, Buffy would be released from the custody of the hospital right away. Instead of what she'd been fearing, that her stay here wouldn't end anytime soon, the California high school student could leave and go with her mother to, where did she say? Oh, yes, Sunnydale. This place sounded peaceful enough, which was just what Buffy needed.

Wincing slightly from the ear-piercing squeal of delight from his patient, a smiling Dr. Dorfman called after the young lady who'd bounced up from her chair and was about to rush out of the office to call Mommy to come pick her up. Pausing at the open door to look over her shoulder in sudden wariness, an astonished Buffy heard from the absolutely nice doctor, "Buffy, one last piece of advice. When you're settled in your new home, try to find friends there. _Real _friend, not the casual kind you've had before to discuss boys and clothes and hairstyles. Look for them in the spots you'd never expect, because the stranger, the weirder, the odder they are, the more you can trust them to be on your side, no matter what happens."

The newest Slayer found her mouth hanging open at that point, as she stared in wonder at a great big teddy bear of a man chuckling to himself under his breath, "I had, and still have friends like that: Pinto, Bluto, Otter, Boon, and even Silver…"

* * *

Author's Note: Well, the story's done, and I hope you liked it! One thing though, in all the reviews, NOBODY noticed something! Just for that, instead of the yummy imaginary cookie I was going to present to the first one to spot it, everyone gets a proper hard smack across the chops. Go back to Chapter Five, and check out the name of the demon who was standing guard in the pentagram in the Administration Building basement. There's a little something called an anagram...


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